The Sidewinder Crew
by Mister Frodo
Summary: Red and Blue armies converge at Sidewinder for...something or other. Rated PG 13 for Mild Language, Some Crude Humor, and Violence. Note: I don't believe that I will ever continue this series. I'M VERY SORRY, and thank you for reading.
1. The First Chapter

**I had wanted to do this for a while now, and since my previous efforts fell flat, it took a long time. But, presenting for the very first time, a new spin on Red vs. Blue…THE SIDEWINDER CREW!**

Private Steven McNeal sighed. "You know, I can not remember the last time I was so bored. It's almost like someone wanted to just bore me to death, just do away with all fun, crush every fiber of my brain…and they went overboard."

Corporal Rogers turned to him. "Yeah, Stevie, I have to agree with you. This is freakin' boring."

"Will you stop calling me that?" The private looked at his feet. "Stevie is a girl's name."

"I've never met a single female with that name."

"I doubt you've even met _one_ female in your life."

"Give me a break. I could come up with better comebacks in my sleep."

Captain Tent sauntered up to them. "Wait a minute…what is sauntering? How can I be sauntering if I don't even know what it is?"

"Sir…_who_ are you talking to?"

"No one, private." He shrugged. "Guess it doesn't matter anyway. But I have some news for you imbeciles."

Steve furrowed his brow. "Aren't you supposed to be _supportive_ to us, sir?"

"I am the captain and you are the private. I can do whatever I want. And stop furrowing your brow!"

He frowned. "How do you know that I'm furrowing my brow? I have a freakin' helmet on!"

"Do not talk to your superior like that, private!" The captain clenched his fist. "Corporal, I want you to slit McNeal's throat while he's asleep."

"Sorry, sir. That's copyright improvement."

"Oh, right." Tent looked up. "Isn't that copyright infringement?"

"No, because that joke was done with Reds. We're kickbutt Blues, better in every way."

"Right. Okay." He shrugged. "There I go, shrugging again. Anyway, I need you two to clean up the base."

"Why?" Steve surveyed the floor and walls. "This place ain't so bad."

"Because, we have a general coming over. He's coming to inspect the base. And if it looks good enough, than maybe he'll promote us!"

"Or get us out of this ice hole. Either one's fine with me."

The captain sighed. "You should be happy to do your patriotic duty, private! We need all the men we can get for the war!"

"Alright. First off, patriotic duty? I'm from Alaska. If I was really patriotic, I'd be fighting in somewhere like Iraq. Or Afghanistan. Or South Dakota. Second, studies show that female soldiers perform better than males. The whole smarter-than-us thing."

Rogers chuckled. "And the 'Stevies' lead the pack?"

"Hardy har har. Don't quit your day job. And, third, why would a general come here? This place is just a canyon frozen over with all types of freaked-up mess. It has no meaning."

"This is a Halo 1 map, you idiot. They all have no meaning. They're just places to kick butt and take names."

"Alright, but what about that Chiron place?"

"True, it does have a purpose, but still, why in the world would Bungie make a level about a janitor's closet?"

Tent headed to the ladder. "Stop pointlessly chatting, ladies. I'm going to scout. Private, take the bottom floor, and Rogers, get the top. I want this place to be spotless by the time I get back!"

Steve stared at Rogers as the captain left. "How are we supposed to clean? All we have is this pistol and a machine gun capable of firing 300 rounds per second. He expects us to fight germs with this thing? I might as well stab them with a—"

"If you say anything about a dinner fork, I'll show you how fast this gun really shoots."

"Fine." He ambled over to the ladder and started to descend. "Can you show me where the vacuum is?"

"We don't have a vacuum."

"Oh. Right." He peered down the hole. "Funny, I can just float here in midair without grabbing on to any of the rungs. I think this _has_ to defy some law of physics. Ah well."

_Meanwhile, at the Red Base…_

"Ah. Home sweet home."

Lieutenant Junior Grade Phillips put his hand on the wall and ran it along the smooth, metal surface. "Oh, yeah. This is more like it."

"Will you stop that!" The private's voice could be heard from the second floor. "You're freaking all the freak out of me, man!"

Phillips sighed. _Rookies. They never get it at all. _"Listen, private, I have been sitting in the snow for the past ten minutes. I think I can be allowed a little luxury."

"Ten minutes! Come on! I can put my shoes on, brush my teeth, eat lasagna, and polish my left toe in that time! And you think it's an excuse for your freaking behavior!"

"There's no need to shout, private. It's just I need to the touch metal about every fifteen minutes. It's a mental thing."

"You know what! I want to freaking quit! One, I get stationed in this freaking popsicle with Mr. Freaking Crazy and Sergeant Never-At-Base, two, I have no idea what day it is, three, you're creeping me out, and four, I have an itch and I can't scratch it! You know why! I have to have this freaking armor on! And I don't even get a name!"

_Another no-name._ _They'll never understand the problems us main characters have to go through. Never. _"Okay, okay, I'll stop. Just calm down."

"I AM PERFECTLY CALM! THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME! I AM COMPLETELY AT REST! IN BALANCE! WHATEVER! I AM CALM!"

"Funny, you don't sound calm."

"THAT'S BECAUSE OF ALL THIS FREAKING SH—"

Phillips climbed up the ladder and poked his head up onto the next level. "Fine, fine, I'm sorry. But you really should watch your language."

"Oh, for the love of—CAN SOMEONE TAKE THIS GUY AWAY FROM ME!"

Phillips' hand slid to his pistol. "Do you want to calm down?"

"NO! I'M FREAKING TIRED OF THIS—"

"That's great." Phillips bopped the private on the head with the butt of his sidearm. "There. Now will you shut up?"

The red-armored rookie nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Sorry, went a little crazy back there."

"Tell me about it. That's the first time this author's had to go to caps lock for a long time. I'm sorry about bothering you."

The private shrugged. "Hey, it's okay. I guess I just got angry from the assignment, the itch, your talking, and the inevitable fact that I'll probably die off really fast."

"Wait. Is your name Rick Firse?"

"No. I don't have a name. I'm just the private."

"Good." Phillips relaxed. "We miss you, Rick. Come to think of it, we miss Mr. Frodo's brain, too."

_"I'm the one writing the story, you know."_

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you aren't crazy." He smiled. "Okay, we started out on a bad limb. I'm Lieutenant Junior Grade Phillips, desperately seeking a promotion to a shorter rank. And you are?"

"I told you. I'm the private. Or red-armored rookie. They're used alternately as to not say the same thing over and over."

"Isn't that guy on the Blue team sometimes referred to as the private too?"

"Yeah. Hope we never meet." The newest member of Red Team Sidewinder Division studied Phillips. "How'd you get the maroon armor?"

"This stuff? Oh, you can change your armor once you move up a rank."

The private put a hand to his chin. "So, what rank is next?"

"Better ask Natination that. He knows all about the military rank thing."

"Yeah. You know, he's pretty smart, Phillips. I mean, he actually has a forum that people join, unlike Mr. Frodo"

"You're right, private. Anyway, Sergeant Montgomery won't be back until tomorrow. At least, that's what the sergeant said yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that."

"Man, we really need a day planner."

_"That's copyright infringement."_

The private looked up at the heavens. "You're the one writing this stuff!"

_"Oh, right. Sorry."_

_So, back at the now-spotless Blue Outpo—_

"Wait a minute." The private clutched his gun tighter. "Why are they so popular? Why can't it focus on us for a little while longer?"

_"Well, the story is going to the Blues. Than we'll end it."_

"Why do the Blues get to end it?" Phillips raised his pistol to the ceiling. "Why can't we?"

"And why is their base called an outpost? We don't get an outpost, we just get a base."

Phillips nodded. "I think that to be fair, we should get some more time. Or at least close it out."

_"Listen, you guys have over 750 words, while the Blues only got around 600."_

"That just proves how much better we are than them."

_"Will you guys shut up! You do realize that I could just kill you at any given moment, right!"_

"Yeah, but then you wouldn't have the entire Red team."

The private shook his head. "What about the sergeant, that Mount Gummy guy? He's still missing."

_"Fine, let's make a compromise. If you promise to shut up, I'll let you guys close out the chapter. But you have to let me switch to the Blues. Please?"_

"Alright, you have yourself a deal, Mr. Frodo." Phillips grinned. "This is gonna be great."

_But, little did the Red Team suspect, a special meeting was being held at 1337 headquarters…_

I leaned back. "So, I have your guarantee that the Reds can be eliminated? Forever?"

"Yes." The shadowed figure extended an armored hand out across the table. "But it'll cost you."

"Alright." I took out my wallet. "How much do you want?"

"Fifty grand."

"Sorry, dude, I'm saving up for an Xbox 360. How about five bucks?"

"Make it ten." The figure lit a cigar, sending smoke wafting across the room. "You still haven't paid us for our work in gAg."

"When you actually kill one of them, you'll get that money. Besides, I have a huge library debt to pay. But a deal's a deal."

"You know, if you keep making me smoke, I'm gonna get cancer."

"Yeah, but who cares? I just need the job done."

The shady figure held out a hand. "We'll do it. You can count on it."

I handed him a Lincoln, and then stood. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have another part of this story to write."

_So, back at the now-spotless Blue Base…_

"Oh, my aching arms." Steve groaned and collapsed onto the ground. "That was hard."

Rogers rubbed his hands together. "Well, now it's time for the shipment."

Steve looked up. "Shipment? What shipment?"

"I ordered a Sniper Rifle. Can't wait till it gets here."

"Wait a minute." He got to his feet. "Why do you get a Sniper Rifle? I'm working my butt off for the freakin' captain, and you get a _Sniper Rifle_?"

"He let me do it for good behavior. Unlike _someone_ around here, I'm kind, courteous, and respective."

"You called Captain Tent a freakin' maniac in your sleep!"

"Unfortunately, you have no proof of this."

"Dang!" He slammed his fist into the wall. "Why won't Mr. Frodo let me use profanities!"

_"Because, you shouldn't use them at all._ _I'll let you have 'freaking', and that's it."_

"But all your other characters can use them!"

_"Complaining gets you nowhere. And besides, those are Marines in military combat. I don't see them lying on the floor, whining about how tired they are from cleaning!"_

"Fine. I freakin' hate this, anyway." He headed to one of the doorways. "You know, there aren't any doors here. I mean, someone can just walk right in, and we wouldn't even know. Won't the Reds exploit this by staging a surprise attack and killing us all?"

"Why bother?" Rogers strolled up next to him. "They're idiots."

"Dude, so are we."

"Yeah, but we're wearing blue."

"Point taken." Steve went back into the base. He checked to make sure Rogers hadn't followed him, and then whipped out his assault rifle. "Okay, now how do I reload this thing?"

"Wait a minute." The corporal ran up behind him. "You don't even know how to reload your rifle!" He doubled over, laughing. "That's…so…stupid!"

"Listen, you may not know this, but I'm gun intolerant, okay? I stink at finding, I _really_ stink at shooting them, and I most definitely stink at reloading them. I can never remember which button fires and which one releases the magazine."

Rogers stopped his guffaw. "And here I thought you were just bad-tempered naturally. You're always in a bad mood because you don't know squat about reloading a gun."

"No, I've always been bad-tempered. Just this gun thing makes me so mad I want to…to…punch something."

"Which explains why you slammed your fist into the wall back there."

"No, that was because I can't utter profanities. Anyways, can you just teach me how to reload this thing?"

"Sure." Rogers moved closer. "Okay, first you have to hit the button."

"Which button? This button?"

"No, not that—"

**_BOOM!_**

_So, with Blue Base now gone, we go back to the Reds…_

"What the heck was that?"

Phillips darted to where the private was standing at the second level's opening. "What? What is it?"

"I thought I heard this boom…"

"Really?" Phillips furrowed his brow. "How did it sound?"

"Kind of like—"

**_BOOM!_**

****"Whoa." Phillips grinned. "That was pretty good."

"But that wasn't me."

They looked out the viewpoint. Phillips' mouth hung open. "No…freakin'…"

The private chuckled. "Hey, this is the end of the story."

"What?" Phillips turned to him. "Dude, we were supposed to close it out with something dramatic, you know, something with pizzazz."

"Yeah, but Mr. Frodo couldn't think of an ending that was any good."

"Oh, right. Ah well. I guess its time to say good-bye."

"That's okay. I already did say farewell. To love."

A piano started to play. Phillips frantically surveyed the room. "Where's the freakin' escape ladder!"

The private hummed some background notes. Phillips dove out the exit. "Don't make me listen to him! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

He hit the ground and remembered no more.


	2. Checkered Flags

"Hey, Lieutenant Junior something, wake up!"

Phillips rolled in the snow. "Five more minutes, I'm about to kiss Britney Spears."

"That's disgusting!" Someone kicked him. "Wake up! Get up before you're scarred for life, man!"

He snorted. "You're an idiot." He pushed himself up to a standing position. "To think that _anyone_ would dream about Britney Spears anymore, it's just…"

The private put his hands behind his back and kicked the dirt. Phillips shook his head in disbelief. "No way. You still…?"

"No, of—of course not. I'm over that…" He swallowed. "I'm over that. Um, anyway, where do you keep the weapons?"

"What?" Phillips yawned. "Why would that matter?"

"Isn't it illegal for you to withhold information from me?"

"Oh, you're right. Dang information laws. They're on the second level, hatch on the left."

The private nodded. "Hey, thanks. The new recruit will love this."

"No prob." Phillips stared at his retreating back. "Wait, what did he say?"

_So, meanwhile, in the ashes of Blue Base…_

Steve looked around. "Wait, the base is fine. Why is he writing 'in the ashes of Blue Base'? There's just a smudge on the wall."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Rogers raced by him and whipped out a washcloth. "We can't let there be any spots on the walls! It has to be SPOTLESS!"

Steve watched him, and then broke into laughter. "Oh, that's great! Man, this is beautiful. Where's my camera phone when I need it?"

"There." Rogers stepped back and wiped the sweat from his brow. Only, he had a helmet on, so he just made a sweaty streak across his glass. "NOOOOOOOOOO! My armor must be spotless too!"

Steve moved out of the way as the corporal hurried to the second level. "Okay, just…tell me when you're done. I'll be down here. As always. Trying to figure out. How to reload this thing."

He leaned back against the wall. "Ah, nothing like leaning back against the wall. So relaxing. It's just so—"

"Hey."

He jumped and hit his head on the ceiling. "Son of a—" He came down to find himself face-to-face with a FedEx man. "Gosh, man, don't scare me like that."

"Sorry." The FedEx man took out a package. "It took a while, but I finally got this package for Corporal Rogers. Where is he?"

"Um…he's not here." Steve frowned. "Dude, what's with the haircut? You get stranded on an island or something?"

"Maybe." The delivery man tapped his foot on the floor. "Well, I really need to deliver this thing."

"You can just give it to me. I'll get it to him." _And maybe get a few tries with it myself._

"Fine, fine. I need to go back home to my girlfriend who forgot me and got married." He handed Steve the long box. "Be careful with it. Oh, and never go on a FedEx plane. Never."

"Will do." Steve turned around, and then looked back. "Um, why are still here?"

"Aren't you going to tip me?"

"What? Didn't you get paid enough?"

He shook his head. "Listen, I only got a few hundred thousand bucks on this deal. I need to feed my family. And Wilson."

"You're worse than the athletes." Steve looked around. "Well, I'm broke, so…" His eyes fell upon a blue flag in the corner. "Wait a minute. 'His eyes _fell upon_'? That's just dumb."

"Who are you talking to?"

"No one." Steve went over and plucked the flag from the ground. "Well, this should get you some money. Maybe you can sell it on eBay or something."

"Right. Okay. Thanks." The man grabbed the flag and ran off.

Steve rolled his eyes. "What an idiot." He then pulled out his assault rifle. "Okay, now, the button on the left ejects the clip." His finger pushed the button. The cartridge popped out. "Yes! I did it! Oh yeah! I am the greatest!" He glanced down. "Now if I knew how to get a new clip _into_ the gun…"

_Leaving these…_odd_ personalities for a moment, we head back to Red Base or, as I like to call it, Sidewinder Outpost Number One…_

"Yeah, well, the pistol is okay. But I enjoy the machine gun better anyway. It has a compass, just in case, you know, you get lost. Of course, you _won't _get lost, but still, if, well, you know…"

Phillips rounded the corner into the base. "Hey, private, who are you—whoa!"

Two soldiers stood in the room. The private, and then another one in pink armor. The private kicked the floor. "Um, hi, sir. This is Private…" He turned to the new soldier. "I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"

"Private Sal Hernia, at your service."

Phillips' mouth hung open. "You're a…you're a girl?"

"Yes." She checked the pistol in her hands. "Does it matter? Is this some anti-female facility or something?"

"Well, no, of course not." He tried to recall how Sergeant Montgomery had told him to greet recruits. "Um, welcome to Sidewinder Outpost Number One, also known as Red Base. I'm Lieutenant Junior Grade Phillips, that's the private, and our superior officer, Sergeant Montgomery, is not here right now. I will now run you through the…the new recruit sign-up process." He whipped out a clipboard. "Okay, let's see…name?"

"Sal Roberts Hernia."

"Alright…" He started to write it down, but then realized he had no pencil. "Um…do you have a pen I can borrow?"

The private nodded. "I still have all those pens you told me to get in the last chapter."

"But I didn't tell you to get any pens in the last chapter."

"Oh, right. Then how did I get these? Ah well." He held out a few ballpoints. "Okay, red or black?"

"Um…red." Phillips took the writing utensil and marked down Sal's name. "Okay…rank?"

"Private."

"Wait." The private raised his hand. "How come she has pink armor? Not that I'm saying it's bad, just…I mean, it makes you look better, just…"

Phillips rolled his eyes. "That is a good question. How'd you get pink armor if you're still a private?"

"Well, at my last station, I got a couple of kills, and I stole the flag, so the Sergeant there gave me a new armor. Of course, I would have gotten maroon, but they only had pink, so I had to choose that."

"Oh." He frowned. "Really?"

"No, actually, the author needed a distinguishable way of telling me apart. And neither of you have pink armor."

"Got that right." He wrote that down. "Okay, you're armor color is pink…What is your favorite type of anchovy?"

She snorted. "That's one of your questions?"

"Yeah, that's what it says."

The private shrugged. "Hey, they asked me what color the sky is. I answered red. And got it right."

"Anyway…" Phillips flipped to the next page. "Skipping the anchovy part, what is your hair color?"

"Red."

The private moved in closer. "I love red hair. It's so…red."

"Quit the romance, private." Phillips looked over the chart. "Let's see…one more question. What is your favorite animal?"

"A rabbit."

"Wait, just a white, furry, cute rabbit?"

"No, killer rabbits from South Brazil. They're very good at hopping…and biting…and slicing off people's throats."

"Alrighty then." He wrote down the last bit of info. "Okay, we got it done. Now, are there any questions?"

"Yeah." She slapped a fresh clip into her pistol. (Of course, it didn't need one, so why she did this is unknown.) "When do we get to fight some Blues?"

"Only once the Sergeant comes. I can't order any attacks without permission."

"Oh. And do I have to call you sir?"

He chuckled. "No, you can call me Phillips. Anyway, I'm going to contact Red Command and see if Sarge is there. I'm going outside for a clearer signal. And so I don't have to listen to your boring romantic conversation."

He jogged out into the cold snow. He cued his radio. "Come in, Red Command, this is Sidewinder Outpost Number One. Do you copy, over?"

"Hello, Lieutenant Junior Grade Phillips. This is Lieutenant Gonzalez. Anything you need?"

"Wait a minute. Isn't Gonzalez a Spanish name? You don't have a Spanish accent."

"Frankly, soldier, who cares? What do you need?"

"Right." He cleared his throat. "I'm seeing if Sergeant Montgomery is up there."

"No, you sergeant left for your base a few hours ago. But nobody's come yet?"

"No, sir. But I have a new recruit here and I was wondering if this was scheduled."

"Hmmmmm…Hold on a sec. I'll be back."

Phillips twiddled his thumbs. Suddenly a shout burst from the base.

"YES!"

He dashed inside. "What in Sam Hill is going on?"

The private danced around the room. "Oh, yeah! Yes yes yes! I have a date! Yes! I have a date!"

"What?" Phillips looked at Sal. "You asked him out?"

"No, he asked me out. And I didn't want to make him feel bad, so…"

"Oh." Phillips grinned. "Love is stirring, huh?"

"Don't even start."

A voice sounded over the com. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Phillips, are you there?"

He flicked on his mic. "Yes, um, who is this?"

"This is General Hall."

"General Hall?" His mouth fell open. Again. "What are you doing calling us, sir?"

"Gather your team, soldier. We have a mission for you."

_Now, let us return to Blue Base for the last segment of this chapter…_

Steve paced the bottom floor of the base. "Man, this is boring. So boring. So, so boring."

Rogers dropped down the ladder. "Hey, did my package arrive?"  
"Oh yeah. It's over in the corner." He sighed. "Why'd you pick FedEx anyway? That guy was just nosy."

"Well, I trust FedEx more than DHL or UPS, I mean, I can't even spell 'em."

"Yeah, just keep thinking that."

Rogers ripped open his package's wrapping. "Man, I have waited so long for—"

Steve looked up. "Hey, why did you stop?"

"Where's the flag?"

"That thing? I gave it to the FedEx guy. He wanted a tip, and I was broke. Stupid delivery men."

"NO!" Rogers' head swerved from side to side. "The captain will be infuriated! We have to get that flag back!"

Steve furrowed his brow. "Why's the flag so important? I mean, it's just a flag."

"'Just a flag?'" The corporal started running around the room. "It's not just a flag, it's the flag! It's the flag! It's blue!"

"So? The sky's blue too, and you didn't get that mad when I sold that."

"Can we just forget that right now! Stevie, we have to get that flag back!"

Steve sighed. "I knew I should have given that guy some snow."

"Never mind your mistakes! We have to go and get the flag back! RIGHT NOW!"

"Fine, fine." He pulled out his assault rifle. "I'll take my assault rifle, so you're not so upset. And you can bring your sniper rifle. Let's go."

Rogers ripped his new gun from its packaging. "Okay, this is it. We just need to find the FedEx base of operations. Have any idea where that is?"

"Um…Canada?"

"Very funny. The guy probably stopped at the nearby post office." Rogers cocked his rifle. "Let's get that flag."

"Uh, dude? Why did you just cock your sniper rifle? You cock shotguns, man."

He sighed. "Never mind that. Let's just go!"

_But, little did the Blues know, the story isn't over yet…_

SteakandGravy paced in the snow. He turned to your friend and Kamikaze. "Listen, this is going to take a while. So, anyone have any ideas to what we can do while we wait?"

"I know!" your friend raised his hand. "We can play the 'Tell the Reader Why we're Here' Game! That's a good one."

Kamikaze cocked her shotgun. "Let's just get this over with."

SteakandGravy nodded. "Okay. We're members of PenguinsKilled, a team hired by 1337 to kill the Red team. We just have to wait for them to come out of the base." He studied his pistol. "Waiting…waiting…waiting…and waiting…"

me...again ran up. "Sorry I'm late, guys. Okay, what's the plan?"

"We're going to kill the Reds, as I just explained to the reader." SteakandGravy shrugged. "And the story's over. Dang, we're going to have to wait till next chapter…"

_Poor PenguinsKilled. We'll have to return next time to see what happens to their boredom. And what about the Reds' mysterious mission from General Hall? And are all the superior officers going AWOL? Tune in next time to find out!_


	3. Totaled Chapter

_The end is near for one of the Sidewinder Crew. Not that it matters to you, but one of them will die…soon._

_Now, for the happy, uplifting chapter._

Steve huffed and puffed along. "Can we please stop?" He put his hand on the wall and rested his weight against it. "I can't go on much longer."

Rogers looked back at him. "Come on, Stevie, don't be a wimp. We aren't even out of this freaking canyon yet."

"Oh." He sighed. "Right. I'm curious, why are we doing this again?"

"We went over that last chapter!" The corporal groaned. "You know, this would make this easier if you weren't such a lazy son of a gun."

"Fine, fine." Steve started the long trek again. "Let's go."

_But, as our idiotic heroes did not realize, there was something very important going on near their position…_

"Is it yellow?"

"Yes."

"Is it corn?"

your friend sighed. "Yes."

SteakandGravy shook his head. "Listen, you idiots can play 20 Questions all day, but I think we should—"

"Hey, you guys." Kamikaze lowered her Sniper Rifle. "I think we have some visitors. Dumb ones, too."

me…again whipped out his pistol. "I don't see anything."

"That's because you're holding it backwards."

"Oh." He flipped the sidearm around. "Okay. Yeah, we got 'em. They sure look stupid."

Kamikaze looked at him. "How, you already have something in common with them."

"Ha ha. Very funny." He cocked his gun. "Okay, um, are we going to kill them?"

SteakandGravy joined them. "They're blue. We're here to hunt Reds, remember? Boss isn't paying us to fight some blue guys."

"Um…Boss isn't paying us at all."

"Oh. Never mind then." He drew his assault rifle. "Let's get some Blues."

_Meanwhile, just inside Red Base…_

Phillips rolled his eyes. "Listen, I'm sure that she's comfortable, private. I mean, she was after the _thirteenth_ time."

"Shhhhhhhhhh." The private put a finger to his helmet. "I don't want to get her upset."

Sal cocked her head to one side. "I'm right here, you know."

"I do, but apparently _someone_ doesn't." Phillips paced the length of the room. "We have a mission to complete. General Hall has informed me that the Blue flag is currently in the possession of a random FedEx man."

The private chuckled. "What can brown do for you?"

"Stow it, soldier. It's FedEx, anyway. We're going to track down the FedEx man and get the flag back." He rubbed his hands together. "But before we depart, Command has informed me of that we will be receiving a shipment."

"What?" Sal looked around. "We're getting _another _soldier?"

"No, that's not it."

"Oh, we can play 20 Questions!" The private raised his hands. "Is it a person?"

"No, I just told you that."

"Oh. Is it a place?"

"No. Why would we be receiving a place in our shipment?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Is it a thing?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Can it fit in a bread box?"

"Maybe."

"What? You have to answer the questions yes or no."

"Oh. Then yes or no."

"No, that's not—oh, never mind."

Phillips breathed out a sigh of relief. "Glad that's over with. Listen, we can go out and wait for the next drop."

"Drop? We don't even have planes. How can you have a drop without a plane?"

"Stop asking me all the questions, okay?" He stopped pacing. "We're going outside to wait for our shipment. Any requests? Concerns?"

Sal nodded. "Can you tell the private to stop drooling?"

"Private, stop that this instant!"

The private coughed. "Oh, sorry sir. I'll quit. It's just…I've never met someone of such fine quality. I mean…she has everything."

"And stop referring to Sal like she's a car! It's getting on my nerves."

The private hung his head. "I'm sorry, sir. It's just…I've never seen one with such good horsepower, bumper stability, or rear support."

Sal slapped him. "Stop doing that!"

"Ow!" The private rubbed his helmet. "You know I'm sore right there."

Phillips rolled his eyes. "Private, you are the dumbest idiot I've ever met. Anyway, the shipment should be here about—"

A doorbell rang. Phillips looked around. "Wait a minute. We don't have a doorbell."

"Hello?" a voice called from outside. "I have a delivery here for Sidewinder Outpost Number One. Am I at the right place?"

"We're in here!" Phillips turned to the two privates. "Behave yourselves, you two. Please."

A soldier in brown armor ran in. "Hi, I'm here for UPS. I have a delivery for…" he glanced down at his list. "…Sergeant Montgomery. Can I please speak to your commanding officer?"

"Sorry, Sergeant Montgomery isn't here right now." Phillips stepped forward. "I'll sign for it."

"Okay."

He handed Phillips the clipboard. Phillips signed it and then gave it back. The delivery man stared at the signature. "What kind of middle name is Marion?"

The private chuckled. "And I thought I had it bad. 'Marion?' That's great! Man, am I going to have some dirt on you."

Phillips blushed. "It was my mom's name, okay?" He focused on the UPS guy. "So, is the package outside?"

"Yep. The package is secure." The delivery man ran out one of the doors. "Have a Happy New Year!"

The private tilted his head to one side. "New Year? It's April."

"Never mind that." Phillips took a deep breath. Excitement rushed through his body. "It's time for you to see our package."

They strolled outside. Phillips pointed at the jeep near the base. "That, my friends, is the M12 Light Reconnaissance Vehicle. Also known as the Warthog."

The private gazed at the vehicle. "It's…it's…_ugly_. Why would Command send us such a horrible-looking thing? Don't they have _any_ fashion sense at all?"

"What?" Phillips mouth hung open. "You think this thing is _ugly_? This is how we're going to find that flag!"

"What, are we going to scare the guy to death?" The private put a hand on the Warthog. "See? This thing feels rough, and callused, and horrible, and—"

"Shut up before Mr. Frodo runs out of adjectives!" Phillips sighed. "Okay, I can't believe your response, private, which means you won't be going with us."

"What? What did you say?"

"You have no regard for the vehicles of this army. And besides, we're supposed to pick up Sergeant Montgomery at our destination. I trust Sal more than you anyway."

The private groaned. "Why does it always happen to ME!"

"Don't worry." Sal ascended into the gunner position on the jeep. "We need someone to guard the flag. And I'll date you once we're back."

"Fine." He started to head back inside, but stopped. "What if someone attacks?"

"Are you dumb?" Phillips got behind the wheel. "Shoot 'em."

He put his foot down on the pedal. The engine roared to life, and they were off. "I sure hope that the private will be okay."

"What?" Sal swiveled the turret around, surveying the snowy landscape. "I thought you hated him."

"I do, but I'm concerned what the flag will do to him. Maybe he can talk some sense into it."

"Okay." She paused. "Wait, what?"

_So, back with our PenguinsKilled friends (or enemies)…_

SteakandGravy lowered his pistol. "They're taking a break."

"What?" your friend joined him. "That's the fourth one since they left their base!"

"I know." He shook his head. "Maybe we should just go and kill those Reds."

Kamikaze turned her head towards the Red Base. "What in the—"

SteakandGravy only saw a green-black blur slam into me…again, instantly killing him. Whatever the thing was went straight past them, heading towards the cliff. He looked over at me…again's corpse. "Why hasn't he come up yet?"

"Well, either someone set this Slayer round to fifteen seconds respawn, or they're still counting that time he went on a rampage and killed us all." Kamikaze turned back to the approaching Blues. "I'll vote for the latter."

me…again popped up next to them. "Man, glad that's over…what the heck hit me, by the way?"

"I'm guessing some type of vehicle." SteakandGravy watched the Blue soldiers have a cat fight. "My guess is that the Reds did it."

Kamikaze looked at him. "Wait. Aren't we supposed to be _fighting_ those guys?"

"Oh, in the name of—" SteakandGravy dashed off in the direction the vehicle had went. "Come on, we have to get them!"

"Ah, and just when it was starting to get good. The teal guy was winning."

"Stow it, your friend. Let's move!"

_As PenguinsKilled gives chase, we head over to an entirely different location: The Blue Store of Boarding Action…_

Captain J.C. Tent studied the display stand. "Wait. Now my name has that J.C. in front of it? Why?"

_"Because this part's being told from your perspective, therefore, your full name is given. Just go along with it."_

"Okay. No skin off my bones." His eyes picked out a large device out of the rows of weapons and munitions. "There. Wait till the boys at home hear about this."

"Um, captain?" A soldier in purple armor strode up to him. "Just who exactly are you talking to?"

"What in Sam Hill—How'd you know I was a captain!"

"Well, sir, from the armor color. Only two types of people wear standard-issue blue, officers and recruits. And since I see you eyeing that Rocket Launcher, I'm sure _hoping_ you're not a noob, for Pete's sake."

Tent furrowed his brow. "Who's Pete?"

"Our weapons test manager. He controls the targeting systems." The man pointed at the giant gun. "So, you're thinking of buying a SPNKr Jackhammer Rocket Launcher, huh?"

"Thinking of buying one? No, I'm gonna actually get one." The captain hefted the firearm. "Okay, so how do I shoot this thing?"

"No can do, sir." The store clerk took the launcher from Tent's hands. "You'll have to fill out the forms first."

"I hate paperwork." He sighed. "Where is it?"

"Come on, I'll show you." The soldier headed towards a ladder sitting at the end of the hall. "Aren't you coming? It's on the fourth level."

"Fine." Tent shook his head. "I'm gonna regret this."

"Wait, what?" Steve popped up next to him. "You're gonna regret buying a Rocket Launcher? Sorry, sir, but that is total bull."

"What—how—where did you come from, Steve!"

"What? Oh, right." He cleared his throat, and then started speaking in a deep voice. "Obi-Wan never told you the truth about what happened to your father."

"What the—will you just shut up?"

"No, Captain. _I_ am your father." Steve tilted his head back. "BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

The captain rolled his eyes. "You are the dumbest person ever to live."

"Sorry, sir, but the private on Red team already got that title. That makes me only the second-dumbest." He tapped his wrist. "This party's over."

"It never started, private." He watched as a beam of light encased Steve and zoomed away. "Wow, and no Star Trek rip-offs. Impressive. Most impressive. But you're not a—" He slapped himself. "Great. Now he's got me doing it!"

_Meanwhile, back at the ranch, or FedEx base of operations…_

"Okay. This is the plan. You'll run out screaming at the top of your lungs and get blasted, while I get the flag."

Steve frowned. "Dude, this is FedEx. It's not like they have soldiers set up everywhere."

"And how do you know that, Stevie?"

"Will you stop calling me that?" Steve cocked his pistol. "I say we both go in together."

"No way, man. I saw this on the Late, Late, Late, Late, Late, Late, Not-So-Late Late Show. We both go in, and then only one of us comes out."

"Isn't that the same show that insisted that Elvis is alive and Paul McCartney is an alien?"  
"Don't rain on my parade, Stevie." Rogers put the Sniper's scope to his eye. Well, he raised it to his facemask, which is about as close to his eye as he could get. "Okay, here we go. There are a couple guards. I'll neutralize them while you take out any other enemies."

"Oh…okay." Steve ran forward. "Call me if you need anything."

Wind blew snow into the air, inhibiting his vision. He crouch-walked in the direction of the large, white building with FEDEX printed on the front. "Why did I ever join this army? My mom wanted me to become an engineer, but no, I had to fight against some stupid Red guys. Now, I'm freezing my butt off in some place far, far away from home. Man, I wish I had some hot chocolate right now. And my Teddy bear." He sighed as the structure loomed closer. "If only Command hadn't passed that law prohibiting stuffed animals. I bet Mr. Snuggles and Captain Fluffy are upset about that." He gazed up at the heavens, his eyes brimming with tears. "And I miss you too, Runny Bunny. Why did you have to go?" His sobs came forcefully now, clouding his vision. "WHY! WHY'D YOU HAVE TO GO! WHY DOES IT ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME!"

"Uh, Stevie? I can hear everything you're saying."

He wheeled around. Six feet separated him and Rogers. Steve froze. "Well, this is awkward."

" 'Captain Fluffy?'" Rogers started laughing. " 'Mr. Snuffles?' And you said I was bad about cleaning…"

"Stop it!" Steve looked down at his feet. "It's not dumb. You'd want stuffed animals too if you went through my childhood."

"Really?" Rogers moved closer to him. "Anything you want to talk about?"  
"No." Steve raised his gaze upward, staring straight into the corporal's helmet. "What would you want to talk about?"  
"I don't know. If you really—" He stopped. "Wait a sec. That Red guy's running off with our flag!"

Steve spun around. "What?"

A soldier in maroon armor raced past them, flag in hand. Rogers fired off several shots, barely missing an instant kill. Steve charged after the flag carrier, his sidearm ready. "Hey, Red! I have something for you!"

The Red halted. Steve ran past him, then stopped and turned. The enemy soldier held up the flag. "You know, I have something for you too." He lowered the flag. "NOW!"

Something zoomed down from the cliffside, almost eradicating Steve on the spot. He ducked, sending the jeep over his head. Someone screamed, and Steve hit the dirt, I mean, snow.

He blinked. The maroon soldier came into view. "Hey, you know what? Blue stinks."

Then he blacked out.

_Startling. But let us go to one more scene, before this long, long chapter comes to a close…_

The private pumped his fist. "YES! I get my own section! Told from my perspective! With action! Adventure! Romance! Drama! Comedy! And definitely incredibly awesome one-liners by me, the PRIVATE!"

"Shut…up…"

He jumped, bumping his head on the ceiling. "OW! Who said that?"

"I…did…"

"What?" His eyes darted around. "Who's there?"

"It's…me…"

His ear struggled to pick up the sound. "Where are you?"  
"Where…you…least…expect…it…"

He gasped. "The calls are coming from inside the base!"

"Yes…you…idiot…"

He slowly turned to the flag stand. "Who's there?"  
"You…already…asked…that…you…idiot…"

"Wait. Why do you always have those dots between your words?"

"It…gives…me…a…creepy…feeling…"

"Oh. Okay." The private focused in on the flag resting in the flag stand. "Hey, this wasn't here before."

"You're…right…"

"What?" The private squinted. "You're the…_flag_?"

No answer. The private tapped the flag's pole. "Um…Mr. Flag? You okay?"

"BOO!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" The private dashed out of the base. "MUTANT FLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG!"

"You…have…very…deep…lungs…"

"THANK YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!"

_What an idiot. Why do I always have really bad endings for this story? I don't know. Anyway, Chapter 4, _Tar Wars_, will answer some more of those nagging questions. Until then, don't eat too much lasagna!_

_Oh, and while you're here, you could review this chapter. Not saying you have to or anything. But, you know, if you feel like it. Oh, and tip your waitresses!_

_OVER AND OUT_


	4. Tar Wars

_So, we will now go to a secret location, where Private Steve McNeal is waking up from his long, long sleep…_

Steve opened his eyes. A dimly-lit, gray room greeted him. He yawned and stretched his arms. "Boy, saw this coming."

"Hey, Stevie."

He wheeled around. Rogers was sitting against the wall, reading a book. "You wanna keep it down? This is the good part."

"Wait." Steve studied the book. "What are you reading?"

"Oh, this? Well, it's—"

Something knocked on the wall. Steve's eyes darted around the room. "What was that?"

"Someone tapping the wall." Rogers stood, sighed, and then crossed over to where the tap had occurred. "What did you do that for?"  
A calm voice answered him. "Sorry, the author couldn't think of the name of a book, so I had to intervene. Oh, and it's time for your interrogation."

Rogers glanced at Steve. "Well, I knew this was coming. I'm gonna miss you, Stevie."

"Yeah, I really wish I could say the same for you."

The wall opened up to reveal a soldier in maroon armor. Steve dropped into a fighting stance. "Hey, you're the guy that stole our flag!"

"Duh, dude. Listen, we have all sorts of weapons here. This is one of the Red main bases. So your kung fu skills won't have much effect." The maroon figure cleared his throat. "I'm Lieutenant Junior Grade Phillips, and I'm going to take you to the interrogation room. So, follow me."

Steve trailed behind Phillips as they headed down a large hall. _Man, now I _really_ wish I had Captain Fluffy with me. Dang that No Stuffed Animal Policy. I wonder if the Reds have that._

"Okay, here we are."

Steve surveyed his surroundings. They were in a room much like their prison cell, except with two chairs and a TV screen. "What's so bad about this place? There's a TV."

"TV isn't everything, you know." Phillips whipped out an assault rifle. "I hate to be threatening, but I really need you both to be seated."

Steve exchanged a glance with Rogers. The corporal shrugged. Steve plopped down in one of the cushioned seats. "So, what are you—?"

Chains popped up from the arms of the chairs, hooking around Steve's wrists. Similar binds went around his ankles. Phillips sighed. "I'm sorry we have to go to these conditions, but you are prisoners. Okay, now I'll let my assistant fill you in on the rest."

Steve turned his head to see the most beautiful girl ever. _Wow. She's so incredible…so beautiful…even with armor on._

The two Reds talked about something really dumb. Steve just focused on the girl…and soon his mind had drawn a conclusion.

_I hate broccoli._

No, the other conclusion.

_Oh, right. I'm gonna marry her._

"Okay, Sal, be careful. They're not very bright, but you never know. Maybe they're the next Albert Einsteins. So, be careful."

"You told me that already."

Steve practically melted in his chair. The voice…it sealed it. _I'm going to marry her. As soon as I get away from these freaks._

"You know, why don't _you_ cover the torture? I mean, I still don't really know what it is."

"Fine. Fine." Phillips ran his hand over the room's metal wall. "Ah, that's nice. That's beautiful."

"Do you always have to do that?"

"No. I—I can quit whenever I want. I—I'm fine. Really."

"Right." The girl strode to the door. Steve gazed at her as she left. "Call me if you need anything."

"Will do." Phillips reached into his pocket and pulled out six DVDs. "You know what these are?"

Rogers shook his head.

"All of the Star Wars movies, from Episode I to Episode VI. You know why I have them?"

The words shocked Steve from his dream-like state. He steadied his gaze on the Lieutenant Junior Something. "You're gonna let us watch them?"

"Nope. I'm going to play the scene with Anakin and Padme by the waterfall. Over, and over, and over, and over, and over."

"NO!"

"And then, once that's done, I'm going to make you watch all of the scenes in Episode I with Jar Jar Binks in them. And I'll skip the duel."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"And the podrace."

Steve gasped, tears welling up in his eyes. "And you call yourselves _humans_."

"And we'll just keep doing that until you tell us the location of your secret rebel base."

"Wait, what?" Rogers chuckled. "The thing's on the other side of the canyon! It's in plain sight if you round the bend! You guys are the dumbest guys ever!"

"Oh. Okay. Then we'll raid the base. But we'll still torture you."

Phillips left them in darkness. Rogers sighed. "Well, I guess this is it, Stevie. But look on the bright side of things: You'll finally be united with Runny Bunny."

"One more word and I'll break out of these chains and make sure _you_ join Runny Bunny first."

"That might not be such a bad idea. It will save me a lot of pain."

_Now we turn to the Reds, in the interrogation operating room…_

"So, do you think this will work?"

Phillips leaned back against the wall. "Do I think this will work? I know it will. Those Blues are cowards. The negotiations will be short."

"Well, what about the private?"

"What about him?" Phillips' brow furrowed. "Are afraid he's going to get hurt? You actually care?"

"It's not like that." Sal shrugged. "It's just, you know, what if the Blues attack while we're gone? He might have to fight them off."

"Don't worry, I'm sure he'll—"   
The private dashed into the room. He put his hands on his knees and stopped, panting. "Lieutenant guy, the flag—the flag talked! It was going to kill me!"

"Really?"  
"No, on second thought, I don't think so. But it might have! You never know!"

Phillips hung his head. "I just had to get stuck with you. Listen, now the Blues can just waltz right in there and take the flag!"

"Wait just a minute." The private looked around. "Where's the sergeant? You said you were going to pick him up."

"You're getting off the subject. We have the Blue flag. That means we can…we can…um…" Phillips turned to Sal. "What does that mean we can do?"

"Defeat the Blues?"

"Yeah, that's it." Phillips faced the private. "Now we can defeat the Blues. But if they get our flag, then they can…um…they can…"

"Defeat us?"  
"Yes, Sal, defeat us. So, private, I want you to go back to the base, and I don't care if the flag scares you, you have to protect her."

"Wait, the flag's a girl?" The private cocked his head to one side. "How do you know this?"  
"I just do, okay? Listen, if you really want to help our team, you'll protect the flag. Got it?"

"Got it." The private headed out the door, then stopped. "But what if it tries to kill me again?"

"For the love of money, private, just GO!" Phillips turned his back to the leaving private. "Man, he's dumb. Okay, did you have any questions?"

"Just where is the flag?" Sal surveyed the room. "I don't see it anywhere."

"Oh, I hid it in a secret place. Well, I'm going to go see if Command knows where our sergeant is. I wonder why there wasn't anybody at the pickup point."

"A lot of those pickups were red. Maybe you missed him."

"I sure hope not, or it'll be heck when the Sergeant gets back." Phillips jogged to the door. "Alright, I'll be back. Until then, may the Force be with you."

"Yeah, right."

_Now, in Red Base…_

The private sighed. "Why does it always happen to me? Every single thing happens to me. Every single freaking thing."

"That's okay. You've held up remarkably well."

The female voice startled him. He took a deep breath. "So…you're the flag?"

"That is correct."

"Okay." He slowly rounded the corner of the base. "Um…why was your voice deeper when you first talked to me?"  
"Because I was trying to scare you. I'm sorry, but it's just so much fun. And if you're upset that you ran off, that Phillips guy didn't even figure out I was the flag. He thought I was the ghost of his grandfather."

"Wow. You're talented." He held his breath as he came around the corner. Nothing was in the room, besides the flag. He let out the air inside his mouth. "I'm sorry I ran away. I…I forgot about how you might get stolen. And I'm sorry for calling you Mr. Flag."

"That's okay." She chuckled. "The sergeant called me Santa Claus, and I already told you what Phillips said."

The private sat down on the wall next to her. The sound of her voice calmed him down. "You know, the way you sway in the wind, it's…"

"Yes?"

_What are you doing? She's a FLAG! _He looked away. "Nothing. Never mind."

"Oh, okay."

Silence filled the room. He wished that she'd talk again, say anything. "Um…do you want to play a game?"

"Play a game? Sure. What did you have in mind?"  
"Hmmm…I know!" He snapped his fingers. "We can play 20 Questions."

"Alright. You go first."

"Okay…" The private put a hand to his chin. "I've got something."

"Is it red?"

"Yes."

"Is it me?"

The private shook his head. "You are amazing."

_Love is stirring, to be sure, but let's return to our friends at PenguinsKilled…_

"Listen, I still think that rewrite you did of Return of the Jedi was pretty stupid."

your friend sighed. "That's what everyone says. I thought it was pretty good. I don't know why George Lucas turned it down for the re-releases…"

"Probably because of the fact that _he_ can write better than you." me…again pulled out some stapled-together paper. "Okay, here's a good one. 'You're my sister, Leia.' 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!'"

"It added drama."

"No it didn't." He flicked through the pages. "Another one. 'I'm a Sith, like my father before me.' Now come on."

"It was a plot twist." your friend shook his head. "Nobody understands good talent."

"No, _you_ wouldn't understand good writing if it bit you on the—"

"Come on, ladies!" SteakandGravy peeked around the corner. "Will you to stop chatting and actually help us!"

"Sorry, sir." your friend glared at me…again. "We'll settle this later."

"I'm sure we will."

They headed around the corner. your friend rounded it first to find Kamikaze standing over a prone Red body. He whistled. "Wow. Did we miss the party?"

"Yeah, but the party didn't miss you." She shoved the unconscious enemy aside. "Okay, one Red down, three to go."

"But he's unconscious."

"Oh." She cocked her shotgun. "Well, good-bye, nameless Red."

"Wait!" SteakandGravy walked up to them, carrying a flag in his hands. "I have the flag. We should go."

Kamikaze turned to face him. "Well, can I please kill this guy first?"

"No, because the flag has a crush on him. If we kill him, that will make her not want to go with us. And we can use her to lure the other Reds into our trap. This guy isn't really a threat as it is." He grunted. "I'm tired of carrying this thing. me…again, you take it."

"Yes sir." The yellow warrior took the object from his superior's arms. "I'll take good care of it. Her. Whatever."

Kamikaze shrugged. "Ah well. What I'm really wondering is how you know the flag is a girl?"

"Just…don't ask."

_We go to two Reds who are just arriving at their robbed base…_

Phillips stared at the doorway. "Did we really have to come back here?"

"Hey, I was worried that the private got attacked and the flag was stolen."

"I think it was because you didn't want him alone with the flag."

"What? That's crazy."

"But it's the truth."

Sal shook her head. "There's no end to you, is there?"

"You bet." He peeked inside. "Private? Flag? You guys all right?"

Sal humphed. He turned to her. "What is it now?"

"'You guys'? The flag's a girl."

"Guys usually refers to a group of people."

"Then why didn't you just say people?"

"Because then we wouldn't be having this pointless conversation." He stepped into the base. "Private! You all right!"

Phillips darted into the building, Sal right behind him. They soon beheld a scene of sadness. The private lay slumped over the flag pedestal. The _empty_ flag pedestal.

"Great." Phillips hurried over to the private's prone figure. "Come on, man, you have to wake up. Then it will just be girls on the Red team. Come on, man, don't leave me all alone."

"Sorry, Phillips. I think he's gone."

The private groaned. He slowly got to his feet. "No, I'm okay. I can't believe you care."

"I don't." Sal looked away. "It's just…well…you know…you snore when you're asleep."

"What? I do not!"

"Well, um, you do, and I was…I was tired of listening to it, so I was hoping that you would…you would wake up."

The private shook his head. "Don't try to deny it. Now I have _two_ chicks that dig me. This is totally and completely awesome."

"Stow it, private." Phillips looked at the empty flag holder. "So what happened to the flag?"

"Right." The private cleared his throat. "Okay, I'm just, you know, sitting here, chatting with the flag, and then _wham!_ Out of nowhere this chick in green armor comes and whacks me! Then, next thing I know, Sal's kissing me."

"WHAT!" She kicked him in place that made him scream in a _very_ high pitch. "NOT EVEN IN YOUR DREAMS, PERVERT!"

"Wow." Phillips whistled. "That had to _hurt_."

Sal dusted off her hands. "Well, it's all in a day's work. You might want to get your sergeant to put a little more padding there."

The lieutenant junior grade sighed. "Anyway, apparently these people took the flag and made off with it. We need to find it, bring it back, and then—"

"It's Miller time."

Sal clenched her fist. "Do you want me to put some effort behind my next kick, private?"

"No. That's okay. You were saying, Phillips?"

"Well, actually, I was going to say Miller time myself." Phillips smirked. "I'm just kidding. We'll bring the flag back and wait for Sergeant Montgomery."

"Okay, let's go."

The private nodded. "Shotgun!"

"What?"

"Shotgun. You know, on the jeep." The private looked at them. "You _did_ bring the Warthog, didn't you?"

"Well…maybe."

"Oh, for Pete's sake…" The private groaned. "How are we going to find those people without the jeep!"

"Maybe we could just read the note they left."

Phillips noticed the piece of paper Sal held in her hands. "Right. Read it."

"Okay." She cleared her throat. "'Dear Red Idiots, we have taken your flag. Come to the big hill outside your base to negotiate the release. If you do not comply, we will kill the flag. And then we will kill all of you. Love always, PenguinsKilled.'" She shrugged. "They can't really kill a flag, can they?"

"I have no idea, but I don't want to find out." Phillips slapped his assault rifle. "I say it's time we _negotiated_ with these 'PenguinsKilled.'" He grinned. "The negotiations will be short."

_After that blatant Star Wars rip-off, we now go to the arrival of someone to Blue base…_

Captain J.C. Tent breathed out a sigh of relief. "Never thought I'd get home. That stupid test thing took forever…man, how am I supposed to know my father's maiden name!" He shrugged. "Ah well. This baby makes up for it."

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around, only to find himself facing Private McNeal. "Oh, it's you, Steve. Hey, do you like the rocket launcher?"

"That doesn't matter now, captain." Steve bent over, panting. "We're in the middle of a situation. See, something really, really, really, really, really bad is going to happen, but you don't know about it. This may come as a surprise to you, but I'm not really the Steve you know."

The captain raised his eyebrows. "Then who are you?"

"I'm Steve of the Future. If only my mom had named me Phil…" He hung his head. "But that's off the point." He looked up. "You see, something really bad happens in the future, something that has to do with me. I haven't quite figured it all out, but the author needed a way to keep his series running past five chapters, so here I am."

"What? What happens? And if you really are who you say you are, where are the real Steve and the corporal?"

"We—I mean, they—have been captured by Reds, along with your flag. But that's not the bad thing that happens. The horrible, awful, completely horrible—"

"You said horrible twice."

Steve slapped his knee. "Dang the author's lack of colorful adjectives! But I need to tell you that I—"

A sudden explosion interrupted them. Tent turned to the smoke. "Hey, something's smoking."

"No, but I really need to—oh, never mind."

A sudden _whoosh_ filled the captain's ears. He looked back at Steve to see only a blackened spot of ground. "Ah well. Guess it wasn't that important. I wonder where Steve and Rogers are."

_But, little did the clueless captain know, the two klutzes had found themselves a new hobby…_

"So, how many did you costumes count?"

"Seven. At least seven." Rogers leaned back. "You know, I think Princess Leia had about seven outfits total in the original Star Wars movies. But this Padme girl gets to change her clothes every scene, and her lines aren't even half as good as Leia's!"

Steve nodded. "You're right. Anyway, we need to get out of here. Any suggestions?"

"Yeah. We run away really fast."

"Um, we're chained to these chairs."

"But I just happen to have a key." Rogers pulled the silver device from his pocket.

"Okay, first of all, how did you get your hand free, second, how did you get that key, and third, since when does this armor have pockets?"

"The answer to your questions, Stevie: Plot device." He unlocked himself and then freed Steve. "Come on, we need to get out of here."

The blue private rubbed his wrists. "Dude, how are we going to get through all of the Blues who are _armed to the teeth_?"

Rogers whipped out a Shotgun. "With this."

Steve shook his head. "Let me guess. Plot device?"

"Nope. EBay."

_Originally, this chapter was supposed to sum up the first storyline for The Sidewinder Crew, but it was getting pretty long and I didn't want to have to make it longer. So, hopefully the next chapter will be titled _Five plus Red equals Disaster_. Maybe not. You never know._

_Oh, and people should rise up and sign a petition to get Rooster Teeth to make more PANICS episodes. Those are hilarious._

_Over and Out_


	5. Five plus Red equals Disaster

_The turning point for the entire _TSC_ saga is at hand with this new chapter, also the shortest chapter in the series. Very odd. And ironic._

"You know, when I said I wanted to get the flag back, this isn't what I had in mind."

"Quiet, Sal. They're talking."

Phillips held his breath as footsteps approached. Sure, both the private and Sal had been against the idea of ripping off Lord of the Rings and hiding under Elven cloaks, but hey, it was _working_.

"So, do you think those Red idiots will try and get their flag?"

"Doubt it. Those good-for-nothing noobs, man, they don't know how good they have it."

Sal clenched her fist. Phillips put a hand on her and shook his head. She sighed and then relaxed.

The private swore. "You stupid son of a—"

The cloak flew off, revealing four people crowded around them. One of them, dressed in gray armor, pointed at them with his machine gun. "Okay, freeze, Reds."

Phillips glared at the private. "This is all _your _fault."

"Hey, stop making moves on my girl and I won't disobey orders." The private shrugged. "Besides, I doubt these guys are that bad, right?"

"'Your girl?'" A female voice sniffed. "I thought you cared about me."

The gray enemy spun around. "Flag, will you just STOP BEING SO EMOTIONAL! I mean, seriously!"

"Hey, don't talk to her like that." Phillips stepped forward. "If you have a problem, take it up with me."

"Wait a minute, you're not the sergeant."

"No, the sergeant hasn't been in this fan fic at all."

"Oh. Right." The assault rifle-wielding adversary turned back to the three Reds. "Okay, now we have all of the Reds, excluding the sergeant. Now it's time to execute Order 83334269986234EQ: Kill Red team."

"No, you can't do that." Phillips shook his head. "When the author learns of this, he will have your head."

"Fool. He ordered me to do it." The evil warrior loaded a fresh clip into his machine gun. "Okay, now with that blatant rip-off done, we're going to kill you, once and for all."

Sal hung her head. "I guess we just weren't good enough."

"You know, if someone had just brought the jeep here in the first place…"

Phillips gritted his teeth. "Stow it, private. I'll see you guys in Heaven."

"Actually, there are two Red females, and only one other male besides you, Phillips, so I don't think. Well, now there are _three_ females, but who's really counting?"

They all wheeled around to see Kamikaze unzip her armor and reveal—

A red suit of armor. Phillips raised his eyebrows. "Well, Sarge, you really had a good disguise. Fooled us all."

Everybody's jaws dropped, excluding Phillips and Kamikaze/Sergeant Montgomery. (Though Phillips couldn't see the mouths dropping, but it adds emotion to the scene.) The private gasped. "But, you said, in the first chapter, that the Sergeant was a guy, and I—I—"

"No, the author pulled a George Lucas and went back and edited that. At least, he should have." Sergeant Montgomery drew a sniper rifle from the air. "Okay, you're all going to die right now. I'm talking about PenguinsKilled, of course."

"But—but, Kamikaze…" SteakandGravy breathing grew heavy. "We were a team. You were the only one who was actually smart enough to understand me."

"Well, yeah, I _am_ deeply sorry, SteakandGravy. But now it's over. You are endangering the lives of my comrades, and I cannot let that happen." She sighed. "This is it, crackpots. It was good working with you boys. But now it has come to an end. And author, you're next after them."

A bolt of lightning suddenly struck the ground. From the dust appeared a green-clad figure, carrying a strange weapon. "I…AM THE AUTHOR."

Phillips scratched his helmet. "Um, why are you talking in Caps Lock?"

"BECAUSE IT FEELS OMINOUS!" I cleared my throat. "I AM FROM THE FUTURE, DO NOT BE ALARMED."

The private whistled. "Dude, that is some _sweet_ armor."

"THANK YOU, DUMB IDIOT. I WISH TO UNDERGO A PACT WITH SERGEANT MONTGOMERY." I pulled out one of the word cards. "Okay, let's see…yes…THIS PACT WILL MAKE HER PROMISE NOT TO KILL THE REMAINING THREE MEMBERS OF PENGUINsKILLED, AS THEY MAY APPEAR IN THE STORY IN THE FUTURE. IF SHE DOES THIS, I WILL RELINQUISH THE BOUNTY ON HER AND HER SOLDIERS!"

"Okay, you have a deal."

"THANK YOU. NOW, I MUST COMPLETE THIS STUPID CHAPTER." I held out a hand. "COME WITH ME, STEAKANDGRAVY, ME…AGAIN, AND YOUR FRIEND."

They stepped forward. I shrugged. "Okay, you want to stay here with Sergeant Montgomery?"

They hurried over. I nodded. "OFF I GO. NOW, DO NOT STIR MY WRATH LIKE THIS AGAIN, OR YOU WILL BE _DESTROYED_!"

The private grew wide-eyed. "Really?"

I chuckled. "Nah, I'm just kidding. Okay, off I go. Again." With that, I left, taking the three remaining idiots of PenguinsKilled with me.

Sergeant Montgomery exchanged a glance with the others. "We will never speak of this. Again."

Phillips nodded. "Yes, ma'am!"

_After that startling guest appearance, here is Blue team with their pointless section of this pointless chapter in this pointless fan fic, yeah, you get the idea…_

Steve leaned back. "Man, it's great to be back. So, captain, any special things happen while we were gone?"

"No, not really." The captain stared at the two Blue soldiers resting against the wall. "So, how did you guys get out?"

"Well, let's just say _one of us_ had a shotgun." Rogers flexed his arms. "Ah, that's more like it. So, you got that Rocket Launcher, sir?"

"Yes, corporal, I did. But what happened to your sniper rifle?"

"Wait just a single minute." Steve looked around. "Why is there this alternation between capitalizing _Shotgun _and _Sniper Rifle?_ I mean, sometimes they're capitalized and other times they're not. Can't it just be one way or the other?"

_"I'm not pulling another cameo, private."_

"Fine. But yeah, what did happen to your sniper rifle?"

Rogers sighed. "Those Red guys took it."

"Oh, that's brilliant. Now we don't have a sniper rifle, but they do? What are we going to do when they use the Sniper Rifle to attack us!" Steve slapped himself. "Great, there we go again!"

"Shut up, soldier." Tent turned to Rogers. "It's okay, corporal. I'm sure the Reds will be way to dumb to do anything about it."

"WHAT!" Steve slammed his fist into the wall. "If I had done that, you would be livid right now! WHY DOES HE GET SPECIAL TREATMENT!"

"Because he's cooler than you. Just face the facts, Steve."

"THIS MAKES ME WANT TO—" Steve collapsed on the ground.

Rogers stared at the hated Blue private's prone body. "Wow, that was a lot of adjectives. Why did he fall asleep?"

"I don't think he's sleeping, Rogers. I think he might be dead."

The corporal gasped. "Really?"

"Yeah, but don't get your hopes up." Tent bent down next to Steve and felt for a pulse. "Dang, he's still alive. But knocked out. Maybe he's in a coma."

"Oh. I guess this means we have to—"

"Yeah, Rogers, as much as I hate to, we have to do it."

"Great." Rogers shrugged. "Ah well. Might add some interesting stuff to the next chapter."

_So, even with the first part of the plot wrapped up, the idiotic fools of _The Sidewinder Crew_ are still at it. And since Kamikaze is gone, I was right when I said the end was near for one of the bumbling imbeciles. But don't forget to tune in next time to the continuing conflict. Ha ha, I updated this chapter but posted it after all the others to add suspense. HA! Oh, and I wish someone would review my new chapters. Okay, I'm done._

_Oh, and I just want you to know, rocks aren't people. _


	6. They Just Won't Die

_At Red base in Sidewinder, an important discussion is going on…_

"Yeah, well, I really think the Italian brand was much better."

"No, that's crazy. It was definitely the French line."

"I happen to believe it was that German designer Echonono's designs that are the best."

"But you can't even wear high heels. You're a flag."

"That doesn't stop me from making modest observations."

Phillips groaned, on the other side of the wall from the girls. "This has gone on forever. I mean, I want to obey the sergeant and everything, but this girl talk…uh!"

"I know." The private sighed. "And now, because they're gossiping, I have to stay here and chat with you! That sergeant is responsible for me losing two chicks!"

"I hate to say this, but I actually _agree_ with you. I mean, the testosterone level is so low you couldn't scrub a toilet with it."

"Wait, what?" The private stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't know what that is?"

The private shook his head.

"Oh. Right."

"Well…what is it?"

Phillips looked away. "Nothing. I didn't say anything about it."

"Oh. Okay." The private started whistling very poorly. He stopped. "Is it something I should know? What is it?"

"Nothing. I already said that. Now just get off the subject."

"Is it part of the male anatomy or something? Is it mature? Does the author have to up the rating if we mention it too much or something?"

"Just _shut up_."

"Fine. Sheesh. Whatever."

Phillips blew out a held breath. "Thank you. Okay, now that's that over, we're going to have to get down to business."

"Does this have something to do with testosterone?"

"NO!" Phillips found himself wishing he could wring the private's neck. "Listen, we're just going to drop that. But I think with the fact that the girls have found their happy place and are not letting us around, we should, you know, bury the hatchet."

"What? You and me getting together?"

"Marriage is between a man and a woman, private. No matter what you 'crusaders' say, that's what it always will be."

The private stared at him. "What? I'm not a crusader for anything besides chocolate and penguins. That came out wrong. What I meant to say was, you and me working together? I really should have listened to that apocalyptic hobo in the last chapter. He was right."

"There was no apocalyptic hobo last chapter."

"Well, if certain people hadn't complained about how long the author's chapters are, maybe there would have been."

Sergeant Montgomery called to them from inside the base. "Come on, you two, get in here!"

"Yes ma'am." Phillips glanced at the private. "We'll talk about this later."

They hurried into the base. The sergeant noted them with a nod of her head. "Thanks for joining us, crackpots. Okay, first off—"

"Wait just one freaking minute." The private clenched his fist. "Did you just call me a crackpot? I'm sorry, but even from a commanding officer, I—"

"Stand down, private." Phillips stepped forward. "I should explain. See, 'crackpots' is her term for guys. It's not meant in a negative way."

"But I'm not a crackpot!"

"I know several people who would say otherwise." Phillips faced the sergeant. "You were saying, ma'am?"

"The Blues are weak." She knelt on the floor and pulled out a pencil and paper. "Okay, I'm going Captain Honsor on this. We're going to sneak through the canyon—" she drew a line across the piece of paper, "—using the passageway right here." She pointed at the middle of the sheet. "Then, we'll get to their base—" she made a circle with her writing utensil, "—and crush their forces forever."

"But, if we kill them, we won't have any one to fight."

Phillips rolled his eyes. "That's the idea, private."

"If that's the idea, why didn't you freakin' kill them when you had the chance!"

_To the Blues…_

Tent tapped his foot on the packed snow. "We've been waiting forever. Man, I wish that doctor would get here."

As soon as he said that a Warthog drove up next to them. A soldier in pink armor hopped out.

Tent whistled. "Wow, you're fast."

"Traffic isn't that bad out here, actually. Okay, I'm going to examine the patient." The doctor pulled out a case with medical supplies. "Where is he?"

Rogers walked out of the base. "Well, I—" He noticed the doctor. "Who's this?"

"I'm Karin, from Duo Jagan's story. I'm making a cameo because the author's too cheap to make up his own doctor."

"So we have a girl operating on Stevie? I mean, when I get injured, I don't get a chick to operate on me."

Karin promptly threw her case at the corporal, breaking his neck and killing him instantly. "That's more like it. I really need something to throw at perverts."

Tent gulped. "Um, I hate to disagree with you, Karin, but he's not really a pervert. It was a misunderstanding."

"Oh, sorry. Guess that's something to put in his obituary." She strode into the base. "I'm going to help the patient."

"Wait! What about Rogers!"

"The pervert? Well, I guess you need another member on your team."

Tent stared at the cyan body resting on the snow. "But he owed me five bucks! Maybe I can get it from Steve…"

_After this startling change of events, you are about to learn the answer to life's greatest question: Where do babies come from? Oh, wait, that's not it. Where do all those characters Mister Frodo kills off go when they die?_

Corporal Simon Rogers opened his eyes, only to see nothing interesting. Just a cold gray room with nobody in it. He sat up, and started to look around. He suddenly found himself surrounded by FedEx employees.

"Holy smokes. Where did all of you guys come from?"

One of them sighed. "That Private Sal girl has a really good aim."

"Oh. Okay."

They just sat there. The corporal swung his legs from side-to-side until the boredom became unbearable and he felt the urge to shoot something. "So what do we do in here?"

A random employee pointed at a door at the corner of the room. "Wait for our number to be called."

"Oh." Rogers realized that he had a slip of paper in his hands. He stared at it. "Number 232099212532. Well, I bet I'm called soon enough."

A voice blared over the P.A. announcer. "Number 8, the author will see you now."

Rogers sighed. "It's going to be a long night."

_I bet you're all thrilled at this realization. Oh, don't answer your doors next time someone knocks on it, or you might become number 232099212533. You wouldn't want that to happen. Okay, back to Blue base…_

Tent entered the base as Karin was putting her equipment away. She looked up. "Your friend here will be fine in a few days. You're lucky it was a serious injury."

"Why? Isn't that a bad thing?"

"Well, for most doctors. I tend to handle serious cases better than others."

Tent tilted his head to the side, like all the other characters for some odd reason, either caused by confusion or a kink in the neck. "What do you mean by that?"

"Let's just say I'm one of the reasons they made First Aid kits." She pocketed her case and strode to the door. "The soldier suffered a coma from high blood pressure and serious anger issues. I left some pills to take twice a day. I also left the address for this anger management place. Now I have to get home, my boyfriend says he's getting me something special for Valentine's Day. I wonder if it has anything to do with Oreos."

"But it's April."

"I'm not specific on dates, as long as I get something." She rounded the corner and disappeared from view. "See you later."

"Yeah. Anytime, crazy." He nudged Steve. "Hey, private, you all right?"

"What?" The blue-armored soldier jumped up. "Who are you?"

"I'm your captain, you—" He stopped. "Wait, you're not Steve. You're a girl!"

"Thanks for the update." She dropped into a karate stance. "I'm ready for anything, you son of a—"

"Wait a minute. Who are you?"

"Give me your name, and I'll give you mine."

"Okay." Tent stared at the soldier he thought had been Steve. "I'm Captain Tent, commanding officer of the Blue base at Sidewinder. Who are you?"

"I'm Cynthia, Blue soldier, new addition to the team."

Tent scratched his head. "So you were Steve this entire time?"

"No, I don't even know who this Steve is. I've been here for a while, just waiting for you to show up. I guess I fell asleep. Or had a coma. They both happen interchangeably."

"But you haven't even been in this fic yet. How'd you get here?"

"Actually, I came right before those two idiots left for something. They told me to wait here, said they didn't want a girl getting in their way. Then they left and forgot about me." She growled. "Ignorant jerks."

"You know, maybe you should take some anger management classes. I know a good place."

"No thanks, dumbo." She looked around. "This place is pure crud. I wish I had an actual gun to shoot with."

"Okay, if you're not Steve, than where is he?"

"How should I know?" Her skin bristled. "Enemies. They're attacking."

"What?" Tent glanced around. "No one's here."

"I can smell them." She sniffed. "They're coming. And they smell pretty bad."

He shook his head. _Of all the loonies…_ His eyes absent-mindedly came to rest on the empty flag stand. "Wait just a minute. Where's the flag!"

"Those freaky little dutchballs!" Cynthia ran out, her pistol ready. "The flag's gone. I'm going to get it."

"Uh, okay." Tent watched her leave. "I'll just stay here. And wait. For you. To come back." He tapped his foot on the floor, then stopped. "Wait, did she say 'dutchballs'?"

_Interesting. But now it's time for a new hero to arise…_

The private scratched his armpit. "You know, I'm curious why no one's ever exploited this armpit hole in the armor. I mean, it's the perfect place to attack."

Phillips shook his head. "If you talk about the deodorant hole one more time, private, I swear I'll—"

The private gasped. "You really should be nicer to your soldiers, Phillips!"

"Oh, shut up."

The two of them were crouched down next to the base. Phillips wished the private would just put on some deodorant. "Okay, here's the plan. We're going in first, while Sal and the Sergeant snipe from long range. We'll draw out the Blues, wait until the girls kill them, and then steal the flag."

The private raised his hand. Phillips sighed. "Private, if you're asking to go to the bathroom _again_, I'm going to—"

"No, that's not it. I was just wandering why we always have all these pointless tasks to do?"

"Man, listen. The author loves really long, pointless chapters. He's almost at two thousand words _again_. I mean, every single one of these chapters except the last one have been two thousand words. This totally sucks."

"Yeah, what's with that, anyway? I mean, the author can write three hundred word chapters for his Mega Man fan fic, but no, he has to make us wade through two thousand word sections. After all, this _is_ a humor story. There should be no character development and a very loose plot, at best."

Phillips nodded. "Must be you're lucky day, I'm actually _agreeing_ with you. Twice. Of course, I haven't quite figured out the plot to all this. And the author even tried to kill me, after _he_ made me insult himself."

"You know, the author hasn't talked to us in a while. Maybe he's occupied."

"Or maybe…"

A voice on the com interrupted them. "What are you two crackpots doing! You're supposed to be at Blue base, not our base! Get down to their base NOW!"

They looked up to see the glowing neon sign with the words RED BASE on it. Phillips shrugged. "Oh. Guess I missed that."

They ran across the canyon, huffing and puffing as they went. Phillips glanced back at the private. "Listen, private, if you're wanna catch up you'll have to—"

Something rammed into him, sending him flying a few feet back (about one meter for all you Europeans) into the snow. He sat up, dazed. A blue soldier raced away from their position. Phillips jumped to his feet. "It's that Private Steve guy! Quick, private, we have to get him!"

The private stared at him. "Why?"

"Because a sudden urge is telling me to! And besides, he rammed me! That's foul play!"

"Won't the Sergeant get mad at us?"

"No, it doesn't matter. Don't worry, the author wants me to do this." He dashed off after the retreating enemy. "You coming, or not?"

"I'm going to regret this. The author said a hero will rise. Where's the hero?"

_"Sorry, the hero isn't here yet."_

"Oh, right, _now_ you talk to us."

_I seriously dislike the private. I don't hate him, but I almost regret bringing him into this fic. Ah well. Here comes a new twist in the continuing saga…_

"Okay, so, if I were Steve, I would burn myself and jump off a cliff. But after that, where would I hide?"

Captain Tent tapped his foot on the base's floor. "Blast it, soldier, where are you?" He tried to remember his conversations with the idiot soldier. "Okay, let's see…dang, I pushed all those stupid conversations to the end of my mind! Now there's all this open space to travel before I can get to them! What was it he was talking about on his first day here?"

Suddenly Tent went Peter Jackson and heard a voiceover of Steve saying: "I hate broccoli."

He shook his head. "No, that wasn't it. What else was it? Oh, yeah. He said something about…about…stuffed animals. That's it!"

His cellphone rang. He stopped. "Wait a minute. I gave my cellphone to Nash…Oh screw it!" He stomped on the ground. "I can't work under these conditions! These lines are the worst lines ever! Who writes like this!"

_"I do."_

"Oh just shut up you overweight blob of grease. I hate you, I hate Star Wars, and I hate Nairuto!"

90 percent of the world gasped. The other 10 percent (myself included) applauded Tent's hate speech of some Teen Titans wannabe. Then, of course, George Lucas appeared from nowhere using special effects and chopped Tent in half with a lightsaber.

"Now that's better." Lucas clipped the weapon back to his belt. "Time to get back to completely ruining my movies by adding in unnecessary scenes!" He disappeared, never to be heard from again. Until the next chapter, of course.

Luckily, Lucas only killed a CGI version of Tent. The real Tent walked in to the base, eating KFC. "Man gotta love those chicken wings." He paused when he saw the blue screen draped across the base's wall. "What the heck is that doing there?" He shot the blue screen, destroying the CGI clone and rendering George Lucas ineffective at movie-making, along with 99 percent of directors. "Finally, maybe Episodes 7, 8, and 9 will have some real actors in them." He plopped down and opened the large bucket of chicken. "'Kitchen Fresh Chicken' my foot. Fried is the only way to go."

Steve walked up to him. "Hey, sir. You gonna eat all of that?"

"Steve? What are you doing here? My CGI clone just spent eight paragraphs looking for you!"

"Oh, sorry." Steve sat down next to him. "I was busy. We really should look into installing a restroom in the base."

"Wait. We don't have a bathroom?"

"No, just Rogers' magazine collection." He stared at him. "You did know those were magazines, right? Not a toilet?"

"I'm taking the Fifth."

"You shouldn't steal, you know."

"Oh, just shut up."

_With Steve's disappearance wrapped up, we go to the last section of this chapter. I bet you're all praising the Lord that it's almost over. Here they come…_

Phillips crept forward, the private right beside him. They rounded the bend to come face-to-face with the Blue enemy. Phillips whipped out an assault rifle. "Time to die, Steve!"

"YOU FREAKIN' SMURFTARD!" The Blue soldier swung a fist. Phillips ducked and it hit the private, just because I hate the private. "HOW DARE YOU ASSUME MY GENDER!"

Phillips gasped. "You're a girl!"

"OBVIOUSLY BECAUSE I'M KICKING BUTT!" She spun two Shotguns in her hands, an almost inhuman growl rising from her throat. "You don't know how long I've waited for this. Those folks at Bungie wouldn't let me dual-wield these at first, but after a little convincing—" She cocked the guns, "—they came around."

"Um, you know, maybe I should run away now."

"That might be a good idea, you dutchball smurftard. Time. To. Die."

He sighed. "I always wanted the private to go before I did."

"You mean the red pervert?" She shot him in the head. "Okay, now he's dead. Ready to die now?"

He nodded. "My life is complete. Do your worst."

Her finger rested on the trigger. "I've waited a long, long time for this."

"No you haven't. We hadn't even met yet. I mean, I don't even know who you are."

"My name is not important to you, mere mortal." She snarled. "It's time to—"

"Oh, just get on with it already!" Phillips got to his feet. "I mean, this is taking FOREVER. Just kill me and get it over with! This story is almost at three thousand words as it is! Just kill me already!"

"Fine, if you really want me to."

A red blur descended on her, knocking her to the ground. Gun shots rang out, almost decapitating Phillips in their fiery torrent. He ducked to the ground and waited as two figures dueled to the death in the snow.

Finally, the blue fighter left. Phillips realized his savior was Sergeant Montgomery. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, it's all my—"

She shrugged. "It's okay, soldier. I didn't like the private that much anyway."

He couldn't take his eyes off the red body lying in the bloody whiteness of—oh, who am I kidding, of course he could. He stood. "Ready to go, ma'am."

"Good." She closed her fingers into a fist. "Lock and load. We're moving out."

_Take notes, esteemed reader, this is called digging yourself into a hole. Ah well, hopefully the next chapter, Lucky Number Sle7en, will answer some of these nagging questions. Until then, this is Mister Frodo, signing off._

_Let's bogey, let's bogey, let's bogey. _


	7. Antefuturum aka Lucky Number Sle7en

_The hero has not revealed himself yet. But will he do it soon? Not likely._

"So. So, so, so."

Steve cocked his head to the side. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Well, so. So, so, so, so, so, so." Tent shook his head. "I bet half the people reading this story won't get that joke. And the other half? They probably won't get it either."

"I bet the author gets it."

_"Actually, Steve, I don't get the joke at all."_

Steve frowned. "Then why did you put it in your story!"

Tent glanced around the base. "Cut the sardineolating. We need to look for Rogers."

"'Sardineolating?'"

"It's a real word, you imbecile."

"Sure, sure, that's what you said about anlarghrain."

The captain looked around. "Hey, the Star Wars Main Title is playing!"

"That's because the author is listening to music while he's writing this."

"Oh." He scratched his head. "I bet it's the one for Episode III."

"How can you tell them apart?"

"Never mind that. As I was saying, we need to look for Rogers. Where do you think he is?"

"Hmmmmm…" Steve tapped his foot on the ground. "You said he died, right? That means he's gone forever." He pumped his fist. "Yes!"

"No celebrating soldiers' deaths, private! You can only do that if you're the one who died."

"But if I died—oh, never mind. So, what we're you doing while I was gone?"

"This girl was here." Tent sighed. "She was _evil_. She said you met her before, but forgot about her."

"Oh, yeah. Blue armor, mean attitude, nasty snarl?"

He nodded. "Yeah, that's right."

"I know her. She came while you were gone. Rogers was afraid of her, so he told her to stay here."

"Of course, private. I'm sure that's _exactly_ what happened." Tent jogged out into the snow. "The search for Rogers will begin…now!"

"But, sir—"

"I'm sorry, Steve, but we will have to miss our soaps. Don't complain about it."

Steve furrowed his brow. "Soaps? I didn't want to go to get Rogers. What's all this about soaps?"

"Will you quit furrowing your brow? That is so annoying!"

"But you can't see me furrowing my brow! I have a helmet on!"

Tent sighed. "I, unlike some people, read the script."

"Wait. We have a script?"

_Odd, they don't have a script. It's all adlibbed. If you were wondering why the jokes were so bad, there's the answer. Anyway, let's switch over to where Rogers really is, in a galaxy far, far away..._

Rogers swung his legs on the table. "Okay, almost there, almost there."

A voice boomed over the PA. "Number 11, the doctor will see you now."

"Great." The corporal laid back. "I hate this place. One, my number's really high, two, this armor doesn't have a portable bathroom and I've already gone twice in it, and three, they're playing the author's Windows Media Player playlist. Who ever thought of mixing Halo, Lord of the Rings, and Star Wars?"

"That would rock."

Rogers wheeled around, spraining his back. "OW! CURSE YOU, AUTHOR! WASN'T KILLING ME ENOUGH FOR YOUR SUICIDAL DESIRES!"

He realized that a soldier in red armor was staring at him. He dropped into a fighting stance. "Great. Now the author's suggesting I know kung fu."

_"Listen, you can be in a fighting stance and NOT KNOW KUNG FU. Don't you people know this?"_

The red soldier sighed. "I hate how that voice in my head keeps talking. So, you're Rogers, right?"

"How did you know my name?"

"Because I READ THE SCRIPT." He glanced around. "Why were my words in Caps Lock?"

"Because the author wishes it." The corporal shook his head. "I really need to stop praising the author. First he kills me, then he sprains my back!"

"Maybe if you praised him, you'd get a lower number." The red soldier held up a card with the number 13 on it. "So what if it's unlucky? It's way lower than yours."

"Alright. What's your name?"

"Me? I'm the private. The author killed me in the last chapter. But that's okay, because I got a low number. Odd, though, that he gave me the number thirteen…"

Suddenly Duo Jagan popped up next to them. He sighed. "Well, wel, the author got mee in his story since I didn't put im in mind. Now he's going to make cracks about my splelling and grammer."

(Note to Duo Jagan: I apologize for these cracks I'm taking at you. You rock and write really awesome fan fics. PLEASE DONT KILL ME!)

Rogers stared at the fan fic author. "So you're Duo Jagan? Somehow I thought you'd be shorter."

"Hardy-har-har. Very funny." He whipped out a cell phone. "Listen, if you want me to call my reviewers? And…" Suspenseful music started playing. "Karin?"

"Wait. Where's that music coming from?"

"Sorry, that's my cell phone ring." He put the phone to his ear. "Can you hear me now? Good." A smile brightened his face. "I've always wanted to say that."

"Sure, whatever. Moron." Rogers opened up a giant portal that looked like an Oreo. "In you go, Muffin Man."

"'Muffin Man?'" Duo Jagan glared at him. "If you ever appear in one of my fan fics, oh, you are gonna pay."

"Sure. Thank you. Whatever." The corporal shoved him into the portal. "Okay, glad that's over."

"So, where'd you send him?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out."

_Well, now that really pointless section is over. Now we can focus on the Reds. Oh, and all you Hawaiians,_ _I apologize for the horror I've unleashed on you. Back to the show…_

Phillips shook his head. "I really think the author should stop making jokes about Duo Jagan. He apparently wants to lose one of his esteemed readers."

Sal shrugged. "Yeah, well, Duo Jagan didn't follow through on that 'give three reviews get a fourth one free' thing. Now, if you're reading this Duo Jagan, please don't be upset. We're only mentioning you because you ROCK ON ICE! And on land."

"Yeah, don't get P.O.ed at us. We're just the messengers, remember?"

"Anyway, back to the plot."

The sun rose over the horizon. Phillips furrowed his brow. "Wait. Halo doesn't have real time. The sun can't rise over the horizon!"

"It's called artistic license." Sal leaned against the cliffside. "See? I couldn't lean against this cliffside if we were _really_ in Halo. But the author took some liberty with physics."

"Yeah, because if this was really, truly Halo, we couldn't furrow our brows, and if we fell two feet we'd lose all our shields." He sighed. "So, where did Sergeant Montgomery go?"

"Um…I'm right here."

"Oh." He noticed Sergeant Montgomery standing right next to them. "So there you are." His face turned red. "So, uh, what are we going to do now?"

"Kill the Blues. Obviously." She yanked her head at the Blue base. "This is the plan. We sneak up, go in, get the flag, kill everyone, and blow it up. Not necessarily in that order."

"But, ma'am, we already stole the flag. It's at this Blue command base."

A Blue soldier ran by, carrying the flag. Phillips nodded at the enemy. "How's it going?"

The soldier answered in a gruff, I'm-really-a-girl-but-am-trying-to-fool-you voice. "Pretty good. Keep up the work."

"Hey, thanks."

Sal stared at him. "You just were nice to a Blue."

"Well, I think that's the person who killed the private. I'm just thanking her for removing the most annoying person ever from my life." He shrugged. "Wait. Was she carrying the flag?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Oh, smurf."

_'Smurf'? Who in the world is writing this stuff? Oh, right. I am. Never mind. Let's move onto the next section of this story…_

"So, got any eights?"

"Nope. Go fish."

Rogers sighed. "How come you never have any cards? I've asked you for, like, every single card."

"Dude, you think I can see out of this helmet? If I could, I would know what cards I have. But right now I'm as blind as a bat. Or blinder."

"Blender, blinder, it's all the same." Rogers shook his head. "I actually miss Stevie."

"You mean Stevie Wonder? Isn't he still alive?"

"Oh, forget you." The corporal stood and stretched. "I really could use some pi right now."

"Pie."

"What?"

"It's spelled pie. You forgot the 'e'."

"No, I mean math pi. I really want to do some math right now."

The random FedEx employees and Covenant soldiers took a step back from him. The private followed suit. "Dude, that's just creepy."

"'Creepy' is so overused these days. I think something like 'eerie' or 'spine-chilling' would be a whole lot cooler."

"How about 'disturbing'?"

"Too mainstream for Oscar voters. Just like the Chronicles of Narnia." He walked over to the door. "Hey, can you hear me, author! I want out of here!"

"He's listening to music right now." The private put a hand on Rogers' shoulder. "It's okay. I'm going to get out of here soon."

"Yeah, but I have number 232099212532. It's going to take forever for me to be called."

"Obviously. I said _I_ will get out of here soon. Poor you."

"But I'll be here forever!"

"Boo-hoo-hoo. Cry me a river."

_Did that have anything to do with the plot? Nope. But anyway, we're going to the revamped, renovated Reds…_

Sergeant Montgomery held up a hand. "Okay, we're going to need to be extra quiet on this next part, okay? So be sneaky."

They headed towards the Blue base. The Mission: Impossible Theme began to play. The sergeant whirled around. "Where's that music coming from?"

"Duo Jagan's cellphone." Phillips removed the mobile phone from the dirt. He started rubbing it. "Ah. That's good. That's good."

But while rubbing the cheap metal device, Phillips accidentally dialed someone powerful…someone evil…someone incredibly (insert favorite evil adjective here).

The phone started ringing. Phillips stared at it. "Oh no. I think I dialed a number."

"No, if you had dialed a number, then it wouldn't have started ringing. Someone dialed your number." Montgomery took the device from his hands and flipped it open. "Hello? Who's there?"

**"Hello, is this Pizza Mania? I'd like two double-cheese-stuffed-crust pizzas please. Oh, and a Dr. Pepper."**

"This isn't—wait." She froze. "Private? You're alive?"

**"I guess so. Now, can I have that pizza?"**

"No, private, you crackpot, it's me, Sergeant Montgomery!"

**"Wow. You work at Pizza Mania?"**

"No, you idiot!" She sighed. "Really, if this is the best we can muster…Where are you?"

**"In this dark, gray room. I'm with this Blue guy, and some FedEx employees. Why are the words bold when I talk?"**

"I don't know; it's the author's idea. Listen, I need you to get out of there."

**"Well, number 12 was just called, so I should be out of here soon. Okay, I'll see you later. Bye."**

She closed the phone. "Okay, the private said he's in this room with—"

'"Ma'am?" Phillips shrugged. "We already know."

"How?"

"We heard the conversation. I think Duo Jagan should really turn his phone's volume down."

"Fine." She threw the phone. It connected with some rocks and exploded. "Glad that's over. Okay, let's go get the Blues."

They charged into the base, firing and screaming at the top of their lungs. The poor penguins never stood a chance.

The sergeant surveyed the room. "Wait. There's nothing here but penguins. Where'd that person with the flag go?"

"Right here, foul evil fighters." The Blue girl drew her dual shotguns and started pumping the wall full of lead. The three Reds watched as she wasted all her ammo.

Phillips furrowed his brow. "Are you done yet?"

"Dang! All my ammo's gone! Son of a Charlie—" She dropped the guns and drew a pistol. "Okay, time to die."

"You didn't kill me last time, Blue, and you won't this time either!" Phillips shot the enemy with his pistol. She backed away from his surprising onslaught.

The Blue picked up the flag and raced into the teleporter. The Reds chased after her through the green device.

They found themselves in a large gray room with three different portals. Sergeant Montgomery gestured to the gates. "Split up! Find her!"

Phillips rushed into one transporter. He came out in a gray, circular room with two levels. He saw a flash of Blue racing towards another teleporter. "Hey! Come back!"

He dashed to the portal and jumped inside. He arrived in a large base in a desolate canyon. Some Blue guy stood on the base, muttering to himself. Phillips ignored the person's talk about some jeep's really big gun and raced after the Blue girl.

She reached the canyon wall and stopped. Phillips whipped out his pistol and trained it on her. "Don't move. I don't want to kill you."

"Well, you're going to have to." She sighed. "I always wanted to die fighting. If you lead me back to them, I'll be disgraced forever."

"No." Phillips motioned towards the teleporter that just happened to be next to them. "Get inside. I'm not killing you."

"Gotcha!" She shot him in the foot and ran into the portal.

Phillips stared at his foot, puzzled. "Odd. It just bounced off my shield." He glanced up. "Oh, great, she left!"

He leapt into green gateway. Finally he found himself back in Sidewinder. "Thank God, I…" He stopped. Surrounding him was a canyon with much better graphics than the real Sidewinder. He gasped. "No." He stared down at his armor to find it much more detailed. "No." Then he realized that in his hands he held a magnum. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

_Poor Phillips. No more pistol. Well, this seems like a good stopping point. I just want you to know that the next chapter will be better. Much, much better._

_So, how do you spell perfect? R-O-B-O-T? Yeah, right._


	8. Elongation

Steve sighed. "Does this chapter have a point?"

Tent shrugged. "Doubt it."

"I was afraid you'd say something like that."

_As usual, the urge to make a bad joke is to great. _


	9. Mission Priority: Stuffed Animal

_Last time on _The Sidewinder Crew…

Captain Tent cocked his head to the side. "Um, last chapter was only 49 words."

_Oh. Right. Then let's skip that part. This time, on _The Sidewinder Crew…

"I'm sorry, sir. But it's time for you to leave."

"And so it is." Steve sighed. "What are we doing? I think we did something to bring the author's wrath down on us. We can't find Rogers, and weren't even in most of the last chapter."

"We were in the entire last chapter."

"Well, yeah, _that_ chapter. I meant the one before that. He kicked the snow. "For Pete's sake, we haven't even gotten out of Sidewinder yet."

"Well, maybe you should find a way to, no, wait, copyright. Hmmmmm…" Tent shrugged. "I got nothing."

"For once we're on the same page. Where the heck are you, Rogers!"

They turned to see the corporal standing right next to them. Steve sighed. "Figures."

Rogers looked at them. "Man, it's great to see you guys again. Want to hear my long and needlessly drawn-out tale of how I escaped?"  
"NO. As in N-O. NO. Notta. Nien. Nonka. Any other word for no in any language. NO." Steve shrugged. "Ah, what the heck. Go ahead and tell us."

"Remember that private guy? With the Reds?"

"Um…no. We never visited the Reds."

"Right." He shook his head. "Never mind. Okay, apparently he was watching the NFL Draft, because he for some reason traded up for my number. Odd, he only got ten bucks and a Reggie Bush bobblehead doll for it, but that's not the point. Anyway, I got picked, had a talk with the author, and got back here."

"Wow. That wasn't very drawn out. I'm impressed."

Tent cocked his head to the side. "What did the author tell you?"  
"He gave me all of this Mister Frodo-licensed memorabilia as long as I promised to always be nice to him." He whipped out his bag with a MISTER FRODO label on it. "I got this bag, a collection of all of Mister Frodo's works, and bobblehead dolls of assorted people." He pulled out two NBA bobbleheads. "Look, if you move them really carefully, you can get Shaq to bite off Kobe's head! Isn't that awesome!"

Steve furrowed his brow. "That makes no sense."

"It's in a Mister Frodo story. Did you expect it to make sense?"

_So, as I await the delivery of an anvil with Rogers' name on it, we go to the Reds for a startling development…_

Sergeant Montgomery tapped her foot on the ground. "Where is Phillips? I told him to meet us here at this place."

Sal shrugged. "I have no idea, ma'am."

They stood in the middle of Sidewinder. Montgomery surveyed their surroundings once again. "I really just don't get how—"

The private walked up. "Well, hey, ma'am, other ma'am, how's it going?"  
"Private?" She stared at him. "What happened to you?"

"It'd take a long time to explain."

"If you put it that way…" Her eyes picked up movement. She wheeled around. "So, um, where were you?"  
"In this weird room with FedEx employees and stuff. I got out early on good behavior."

"That's—"

She held her gun at the ready. "Sal, there's someone here."

"I know."

The two of them stood back-to-back, with the private shaking his head at them from the side.

"Dude, this freakin' stinks. It's like the Sixth Sense or something."

_Viewpoint Change to the Private_

The private froze. "Wait, 'viewpoint change'? What the burrito…?"

"Dude, you should like totally love burritos! Burritos are, like, your friend!"

The private spun around, almost snapping his Achilles tendon. Luckily he was too lazy to spin around quick enough to hurt himself. "What in the world?" He realized that a Red soldier stood next to him. "Who are you?"

"Oh, right. I think my name's, like…" The soldier put a hand to his chin (helmet). "…Darnt."

The private squinted at a white nametag on the soldier's armor. "Um…your nametag says 'My name is Kyle.'"

"No, dude, it's definitely…Darnt."

"Durnt?"

"No, _Darnt_."

"Oh. Right. Durnt."

Something seemed to distract "Darnt". He looked over the private's shoulder at the two girls and gasped. "Oh my onion…you guys are, like, totally The Sidewinder Crew! Dude, I'm, like, your biggest fan!"

"Wow. Mister Frodo actually has fans." The private shrugged. "Who knew?"

A random meteorite hit the private, killing him instantly. "Darnt" stared on in amazement. "Wow. That was so totally radical, dude!"

**Three Days Later…**

The private walked up. "Well, hey, ma'am, other ma'am, how's it going?"  
Sal glanced over at him. The two girls still stood back-to-back. "You left?"

"What? Are you kidding me? I was gone for three freakin' days!"

"Oh. Right." She looked at "Darnt". "Who's this?"

"Are you freakin' joking? You didn't notice him for three whole days!"

"We were busy."

"Yeah, I _really_ believe you." He sighed. "Okay, listen, this is Kyle."

"Darnt, dude. _Darnt_."

"Listen, I don't care what you think your name is, your name is Kyle, and if you don't like that, don't wear a nametag that has the name Kyle on it!"

"Dude, you have some serious anger issues."

"That's it!" The private stomped off towards their base. "I'll be with the flag if you need me!"

_Poor private. Nobody understands him. So, after all that idiotic talk, here comes the tale of a boy, a girl, and a 50-megaton bomb…_

Steve shook his head. "I really don't think that's true."

"Why not?" Rogers leaned against the wall. "I tell the truth all the time."

"Yeah, I bet you do. Just I seriously doubt that you would somehow just meet up with Shaq, go to the Taj Mahal, rescue Princess Leia, and then throw the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom, all before lunchtime."

"It's not impossible."

"Actually, I have this kind of feeling; call it a brain wave if you want, that it _is_ impossible." He sighed. "This job stinks. So, what are we going to do now?"

Captain Tent moved to the middle of the base. "I have something I want to show you two. Now, don't scream."

"Okay."

"Prepare yourselves. This is not for the faint at heart." The captain pulled out a Rocket Launcher.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Sir, no offense, but that was just—"

"HOLY TOMATOES! A ROCKET LAUNCHER!" Rogers collapsed on the floor.

Steve stared at the corporal's prone figure. "He's such a wimp."

"Great. Now I'm stuck with Steve!" Tent bent down and shook Rogers. "Come on, wake up! I don't want to be alone with that idiot!"

"Thanks, sir. You're _very _encouraging."

Steve glanced over at the exit hall. He did a double-take. A blue soldier stood in the doorway, dual shotguns ready. Steve bowed his head. "Great. This again."

"You better believe it." The blue girl cocked her shotguns. "You left me to die last time."

"No, actually, Rogers was afraid of you. He wanted you to die."

"Oh. Right." She looked around. "Where is he?"  
"The guy on the ground."

"Okay."

She rushed past. He heard a shot and a groan. _You little idiot…_ He wheeled around. "No, the other guy on the floor!"

"Oh. Sorry, captain." She blasted Rogers. "There. Now he's dead."

"Um, I hate to break this to you, but Rogers died before. He came back."

"Not this time." She slumped against the wall and exhaled. "Phew. Glad that's over."

"So, are you always like this?"  
"Oh, just shut up, you son of a bicycle." She stretched her arms. "You idiots always mess everything up."

"Wait." He chuckled. "'Son of a bicycle'? What's up with that?"

"Well, my mom always told me that cussing is not the answer. I decided that between that and her 'violence is not the answer' lesson, I liked the cussing one better, so I never cuss." She sighed. "'Violence is not the answer.' I guess that's what you get when you have a hippie mom."

"Oh. Right."

Tent got to his feet. "Oh, my head is aching. It's almost like a headache or something." He picked up his rocket launcher. "Okay, I think it's time we were properly introduced. I'm Captain Tent."

Steve shrugged. "I'm Private Steve."

"And I'm Private Cynthia." A short growl escaped from her throat. "But if I have one more person call me Cindy, oh, I'll—"

"Kill us all?"

The three Blues spun around to see PenguinsKilled. Steve furrowed his brow. "Who the heck are you guys?"

"You don't know?" The head Spartan in gray armor shook his head. "This is just sad. Okay, hit it!"

Sappy theme music started playing. A spotlight suddenly appeared and focused on the members of PenguinsKilled.

**"You thought you knew Red vs. Blue. But, now, introducing the future of multiplayer teams…PenguinsKilled!"**

The three Spartans turned cartwheels in the base. Then they started dancing. Steve watched, his body frozen in horror. _Must run away. Must run away._

The Spartans finally stopped. "Okay, that's over." The head soldier stepped forward. "I'm SteakandGravy, that's your friend, and the last one is me…again."

"Wait, you're there twice?" Tent looked from one idiotic soldier to the next. "And you're my friend?"

"No, _your_ friend."

"My friend?"

"No, you—oh, never mind."

Steve shrugged. Again. "So, um, why are you guys here?"

"Right." SteakandGravy pulled out a slip of paper. "We're here to present an award to the one who has killed Rogers: Private Cynthia Anthony—"

Cynthia growled.

"—or just Private Cynthia, if she prefers it that way." He placed a sniper rifle on the ground. "This is a gift from the author. Use it wisely."

"Please, the author can't snipe to save his life." She took the weapon. "Okay. Can we just finish this up so I can kill you?"

"You sure know how to encourage people." He backed up to the exit hall. "Okay, see you guys later. Bye."

The three PenguinsKilled members walked away. Sadly, they didn't realize that they were on the second level, and went right out of the large opening, fell a long ways, and died. Steve shrugged. "Hey, better them than me."

"What the heck! This thing doesn't even work!"

He turned around. Cynthia pounded the sniper rifle against the wall. "This stupid thing doesn't work!"

The lights in the room dimmed. She dropped the rifle to the ground. They stared at it.

**"Hello, Blue team members." **A cheap British voice spoke from the Sniper Rifle.** "Your mission, if you choose to take it, is to find the evil warlord Maximum Pain."**

Steve sighed. "Boy, that's inconspicuous."

**"He has created a 50-megaton bomb that will detonate and destroy Sidewinder if you do not stop him. The access code for the bomb is in Pain's secret lair in Wizard."**

"Wait. If it's so secret, how come you know where it is?"

**"Quiet, pointless idiot who will die very, _very_ soon if he doesn't shut up. You can select any two operatives to go with you on this mission, but you must also find PenguinsKilled and work with them on this mission."**

"But PenguinsKilled just died."

**"Oh, then scratch that last part. This rifle will self-destruct in thirty seconds. Good-bye."**

Steve furrowed his brow. "Who was that guy?"

"I have no idea. Though he did sound oddly like Q." Cynthia handed him the sniper rifle. "Here. Hold this for a second."

"Okay." He watched her and the captain leave. "Hey, wait a second…"

**_KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!_**

_You can see I pay top dollar for my sound effects. And now, finally, at LAST, the hero will rise…_

The hero rose from his coffin. "I have come forth to destroy all who oppose me. Stand aside, evildoers, or prepared to be destroyed!"

A giant fireball hit the hero and killed him. Mario ran up, laughing maniacally. "'Mama Mia' _that_!"

Kyle (or "Darnt", whichever one you want to call him) stared at the TV screen. "Dude…I, like, totally did not see that coming." He gazed in awe as Mario murdered innocent chickens. "Totally radical, dude."

The private came up. "Hey, what you watchin'?"

"Um…I forgot. Wait, the show's title is coming on…"

A sudden explosion destroyed the television set. Kyle sighed. "Every time…"

The private shrugged. "What the heck. Listen, I'd like to introduce you to someone."

"Okay, dude."

He turned around. The private held a flag in his hands. "Kyle, this is Natalie. Natalie, this is Kyle."

"Who are you talking about, dude? Is someone behind the flag?"

"It IS the flag, you moron." He shook his head. "The nerve of some people…"

"Oh, sorry, dude." Kyle looked at the flag. "Dudette. Um…like, how does she talk?"

"It's a long story." He set the flag down on the ground. "Um, Natalie, you've been pretty quiet. Are you all right?"

She huffed. "Hm, I wonder. Would you be all right if you friends showboated you around like you were some inanimate object?"

"What—no! I don't think you're an inanimate object! If I thought you were an inanimate object, I wouldn't have introduced you! That's for crazy people who think stuffed animals and fine china are alive!"

"Oh, so now you're comparing me with stuffed animals and fine china, huh?"

"NO! WHY DOESN'T ANYONE UNDERSTAND!" The private stormed away towards the base.

Kyle stared at the flag. "That was, like, so mean."

Sal walked up. "What's so mean?"

"The flag totally hurt that other red guy's feelings."

"Oh, you mean the private."

"Ugh. Dude, let's keep it G-rated."

She sighed. "Moron. Okay, wait here. I'm going to go see the private."

"I told you, dude, keep it _G-rated_!"

_Yeah. That was dumb. But here's the continuing story of the Blues…_

Steve climbed down the ladder. Actually, he fell and knocked out all his shields, but there's pretty much no difference.

He glanced around. Cynthia and Tent stood in the corner, talking. He hurried over to them. "Okay, so, are we ready to move out?"

They turned to face him. Tent sighed. "I guess you didn't die, huh?"

"Nah. If I died, who would tell the bad jokes?"

They stared at him. He shook his head. "Well, I guess I can scratch 'comedian' off my list of careers."

"You got that right." Tent pulled out a piece of paper. "Okay, they said we could pick two operatives to go with us on this mission, so Rogers will get one spot…"

"Ah, can't we leave Rogers here?"

The captain shook his head. "No, we _need_ him. Your petty hatred of other soldiers has to stop sometime. Moron."

"No, but if he comes, we have any room for Caboose and LaFonte."

"Caboose and…who?"

"My two teddy bears. I named them after my favorite Red vs. Blue characters." He took out two stuffed bears and hugged them. "Oh, I wuv you, my widdle teddy bears."

"Well, that's just disturbing." Tent looked at Cynthia. "Cynthia, the honors?"

"Fine." She whipped out her dual shotguns and blasted the teddy bears into stuffing. "That's that."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He shrugged. "Ah well. I can get new ones."

"Okay, skipping the fact that I'm going to have nightmares until I die, let's get on with this." He wrote something down his with pencil. "Rogers is coming so…who gets the last spot?"

"Oh, let's give it to the Warthog!"

"We don't have a Warthog."

"If someone had just done as I said and asked Command for one, maybe we would have a Warthog."

"I find you far too sarcastic for a moron."

"You know me, just doing my job."

Captain Tent moved towards the door. "Okay, I'm going to go scout out the area and see if any Blues are nearby."

Steve tilted his head to the side. "Um, don't you mean you're going to see if any Reds are nearby?"

"No, Blues. We need the help."

"Sir, are you so sure that's such a good idea? I mean, last time you went scouting we got kidnapped and imprisoned and you almost died."

"But I didn't almost die."

"Well, in a perfect world…"

"Oh, shut up." He ran out into the snow. "Wake up Rogers for me!"

Cynthia sighed. "This stinks. Okay, are we going to get Rogers up now?"

"Let's not do it and say we did!"

She shrugged. "Alright. Fine by me."

_So, will the private and the flag patch things up? Will Rogers ever be awoken from his deep sleep? Will Captain Tent get lost again? And why are these chapters so long? Tune in next chapter to find out! _

_Author's Note: Caboose and Tucker are not my favorite RvB characters. My favorite two are Caboose...and Griff._

_"Why does the cake smell like baby oil?"_


	10. Well, We Got This Far, Now What?

_Sadly enough, this chapter is not the end of this story. Because if I ended it with this chapter, I wouldn't be able to explain what happens to Phillips. Maybe this chapter will be better than the last few. I kind of doubt that._

_Anyway, on with the story. _

_Last time on _The Sidewinder Crew_…_

"But, Zero…" Ciel looked up at him through blurry eyes. "You don't have to do this."

"That's where you're wrong."

_Wait a minute…oh, sorry. Wrong last time. Again. Anyway, this time, on _The Sidewinder Crew_…_

Steve sighed. "I am _so _going to regret this."

"Quiet, moron!" Tent stood out in the snow, with Cynthia and Rogers next to him. He looked up at Steve, who waited on the second level. "We're going to leave now. Don't let anything happen to the base while we're gone!"

"How come I have to stay here?"

"One, I hate you. Two, we need someone to defend the flag. Three, I hate you. Four, if that bomb explodes it will take you, instead of one of the others. Five, I hate you, and six, we already have the other two spots booked."

"What!" He stared at the captain. "But it's only you three!"

"No, I ordered these two robots from the Blue Command. We're going to pick them up and take them with us."

"Robots?"

"Well, originally I picked Shaq and Tom Cruise as our two other partners—"

"Wait. What?"

"—but sadly, they couldn't make it. So stay here and don't let anything happen to the base."

"Fine." Steve shook his head. "Is there anything else you want to tell me before you go?"

"Did I mention I hate you?"

"Yeah, something along the lines of that."

"Okay, then I'm done. See you later, Steve."

The three of them ran off. Steve slumped to the ground. "Great. Now they're gone for a long time and I have the base to myself…" He blinked. "I am such an idiot!"

_No, you're not that bad, Steve. You're one of the few people that hasn't died yet. Anyway, we go to the Reds…_

"Well, I'm just saying, it could complicate things, I mean, I—"

Sal walked into the base. The private sat on a couch with the new soldier standing next to him. Sal still didn't know the new guy's name.

"Hey, private, sorry about what happened." She leaned against the wall. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Horrible." He sighed. "I guess it's just that I've never thought about a long-term relationship. I'm usually used to just dating for a few nights, and then leaving. This is so much different." His shoulders sagged. "She hates me."

"You, like, have to cheer up, man!" The new soldier slapped the private on the back. "You shouldn't be so down on yourself!"

"I can't cheer up! I keep listening to the Halo 2 Volume 2 soundtrack! The music always makes me cry!"

He started sobbing. Sal shook her head. _Wow. I never knew he was such a baby._

"Hey, dudette." The new guy turned to Sal. "Um…what's your name?"

She snapped to attention. "Private Sal Hernia of Red Army. What's yours?"  
"Well, as influenced by the opinion of _other people_—" he glanced at the private, "—I guess my name's Kyle. I was, like, sent by the Red people to be here so I could, like, help you and stuff."

"Right. Kyle. I'll remember it." _Like I'll need to, he'll probably die off soon enough. _"Can you help me make the private stop blubbering?"

"Sure." He pulled out an assault rifle. "Will this, like, do, man?"  
"No, I want to make him shut up, not kill him."

"Oh. Right." He chuckled. "Sorry. Sometimes I, like, totally mistake blubbering for breathing. Just a small problem, dude."

"Gotcha." She tapped the private on the shoulder. "Hey, private. I want you to stop crying and WAKE THE HECK UP!"

He snapped up. She smiled. "See. Told you I could stop him from crying."

"Okay, okay." He stood and took a deep breath."I have to regroup. This relationship can still work. I'm going to apologize." He paused. "Um, Sal? If I die, I just want you to know: You're not nearly as hot as the flag."

She nearly tore into his guts, extracting the entrails and allowing birds to feast on his flesh. (Yeah, she's just a bundle of love.) But Kyle held her back.

The private left. She tore herself from Kyle's grasp. "What did you do that for! I was about to kill him!"

"What? I was just, like, totally giving you a big hug. You looked like you could use one."

She slowly stepped away from the Red soldier. "Alright. Why don't you stay here, and I'll go see the private embarrass himself?"

"Uh, okay, dude."

She ran out of the base into the snow. The private ran past her carrying the flag. "Hey, Sal." He skidded to a stop. "Guess what? We patched things up!"

"Really?" Sal furrowed her brow. "What did you give her? Diamonds? Flowers?"

"No, I waxed her pole and made it all sparkly clean." He set the flag on the ground. "Okay, Natalie, you stay there, and I'll get some needle and thread and fix that tear you got."

"Wait." Sal stared at him. "You named the flag? And you know how to stitch?"

"First off, the flag was always named Natalie, and secondly, I took sewing in high school. It was a required course for the college I wanted to go to."

"What college was that? 'Sissy University'?"

"Wow." He tilted his head to the side. (If you haven't figured it out yet, this is what people do when they're confused or questioning something. Kind of like furrowing their brows.) "Still seething about that comment I made, huh?"

"NO!" She punched him, knocking him back into the wall. "I AM NOT UPSET! I AM COMPLETELY CALM AND IN BALANCE! IN SYNC! WHATEVER YOU FAKE YOGA 'ENLIGHTENED' PEOPLE CALL IT!"

He groaned. "Yep. That's really, really obvious. You're not mad at all."

She took a deep breath. _Calm down. It's okay. You kill him two chapters from now anyway._

_"The audience isn't supposed to know that yet!"_

The private glanced around. "Know what? What was that voice? Why does it torment me so?"

_I can't take it anymore! Screw what the author says! _She whipped out her sniper rifle. "That voice isn't the only thing about to torment you." She cocked her weapon. (Odd, people keep doing this, even though you CAN'T COCK A SNIPER RIFLE.) "You ought to choose your words more wisely, you know."

"But, Sal!"

"Don't 'but Sal' me." She snarled. "You won't get away this time."

"Um, you're kind of freaking me out here. You know, you're acting like that girl on Blue team."

She marched towards him as slow as physically possible. (For the drama, of course.) Oppressive feelings of rage and fury grasped her mind in an iron grip, refusing to let go even for the slightest relief. She centered the panicked private in her scope.

"Nice knowing you, private." She grinned. "Time to die."

_Oh, no, the drama's killing me! Okay, listen; I did NOT want Sal to kill the private. But now the characters have taken control of this fan fic, and soon even you may be under their grasp. And even Bill Gates isn't safe from this horrible, evil attack. You will all burn and die if you are caught and then be hung in the streets for all to see. Anyway, on a lighter note, back to the three Blues on their improbable mission…_

Captain Tent stopped by the large wall. "Phew. We trekked through miles and miles of nothingness that Bungie designers put between the multiplayer maps to get here, but finally, we're at Wizard! It's time to finish what we started!"

Rogers looked at him. "Do you ever have this feeling that the audience doesn't care what happens to us and just wants you to skip ahead to the Reds?"

"Now that you mention it…no."

"Oh. Never mind, then."

Tent slapped a fresh clip into his sniper rifle."Let's move out. Robots, prepare to launch Operation Explosion Exposition!"

"Sir?" Rogers glanced back at the two androids. "I've kind of wanted to ask you something. Why are the robots green?"

"That's a good question, and it has two answers. First off, they're not green, they're sage. And secondly, we don't want the enemy knowing we have additional firepower. If the robots are green, the enemy might just suspect they're innocent bystanders and have no effect on the current situation. Until it's too late."

"But won't the enemy just get a little suspicious that the 'innocent bystanders' are carrying weapons?"

"That's the beauty of the fact that we live in Halo. Everybody carries weapons!"

"Okay." The corporal nodded. "Thanks for clearing that up."

"Anytime. Moron," Tent muttered to himself. He then clicked on his radio. "Come in, private! Do you copy, over?"

**"No sir, I don't copy. I can't hear you over the connection. Over."**

"Darn! Stupid cell phone towers." He stopped. "Wait a minute. How do you know I asked if you copied or not if you couldn't copy? Over."

**"Um…I guessed that would be the first thing you would say. Over."**

"Oh. And always thought you were an idiot…" He almost kicked himself. "Duh! These radios never malfunction! That only happens to Red team's radios! You think you're being funny, huh, private? Over."

**"Well, the author wouldn't have me in this fan fic if I wasn't, huh, sir? Over."**

"Fine. I just called in to see how you were doing. I'm concerned for your health. Over."

**"Wow, that's pretty nice of you, sir. Over."**

"And I also called to rub it in your face that we already got to Wizard without you! If you were here it would have taken twice the time! You stink and are the worst soldier ever! Over."

**"O-kay. I'm going to pretend you _didn't _say that last part. In response to your first question, I'm doing fine. I ate breakfast, watched the Halo 3 announcement trailer over and over again, ate lunch, watched the trailer some more, ate dinner, and then watched the trailer again."**

"But it's only 1100 hours. It's not even lunchtime yet."

**"But it might be 11OO hours P.M."**

"Hm. I never considered that. So, anything else to report?"

**"Did you know they use trumpets in the trailer? Why? Is it to symbolize triumph over evil? Or to show the veil of darkness about to cover all? Or maybe it's used to FREAKIN' ANNOUNCE THE GAME! Over."**

"You seem kind of upset."

**"I'm not that upset, it's just, you know, all the nerds making a big deal out of NOTHING. Catch you later, sir."**

"Roger that. Over and out." He turned off the mic. "This stinks. We need a distraction, and we don't have Steve to send in! If only he were here, we could send him to a certain death! Ah well. Robot One, codeword: Search Dang."

One of the robots snapped to attention. "_Affirmative, sir. Initiating Operation Search Dang._"

Rogers watched as Robot One leapt into Wizard. He looked back at the captain. "Why is it called 'Operation Search Dang', sir?"

"Because the author couldn't come up with any good names, soldier." He whipped out his rocket launcher. "Time to roll. Let's move, men! And Cynthia. And the robots. And Rogers."

"Hey!"

"Oh, complain about it later. Charge!"

They jumped into the enemy lair to find…nothing. Except the fact that the two feet jump knocked out all of both Tent's and Rogers' shields. Cynthia, the only one with any skill whatsoever, crouched when she landed.

Tent surveyed the round area. "Odd. This place is completely symmetrical. And doesn't look like anything in the single-player game."

"None of the multiplayer maps in Halo 1 look like parts of the game. Except Sidewinder, of course." Rogers sighed. "This is bad. I think it's a trap."

"Wait, I just realized something!" Tent snapped his fingers. "It's a trap!"

"But, sir, I—oh, never mind."

"And Robot One is missing." He dropped his rocket launcher and cupped his hands around his mouth. Well, he cupped them on his helmet, but you get the idea. "Robot One! Are you here!"

Cynthia put up a hand. "Don't shout, you smurftard! They'll hear you."

"But no one's here."

"WRONG!"

They all wheeled around to see—the wall.

"_OTHER _WAY, YOU IDIOTS."

They turned back around. A soldier in black armor stood on the center platform. "SO! WE MEET AT LAST!"

Tent gasped. "Maximum Pain!"

"Actually, my real name is Lawrence, but if that's what you want YES! I AM MAXIMUM PAIN AND I HAVE SUMMONED YOU TO YOUR DOOMS!"

"You heretic! You talk in Caps Lock! Only the author can do that!"

"YOU'RE FORGETTING THAT I'M THE VILLIAN!"

He nodded. "Right. Sorry, forgot that."

Cynthia pulled out a sniper rifle. "You're going to die now, Pain."

"AH, IT IS THE GIRL, CYNTHIA! I COULD USE SOMEONE LIKE YOU AS ONE OF MY WARRIORS!" He reached out with his hand. "JOIN ME, AND TOGETHER WE CAN RULE THE GALAXY AS MANAGER AND EMPLOYEE!"

"I don't know…"

"I'LL GIVE YOU FORTY PERCENT!"

"Sorry, I only work for 65.4."

"FINE! THEN I WILL REVEAL MY MASTER PLAN! THE LIGHTS, IF YOU PLEASE!"

The lights went off, covering them in darkness. Tent took a deep breath. _Hold it together. You can do it. Be a big boy. The dark isn't that bad._ He heard Rogers sniff. _Wow. What a baby. I bet he wet his pants, the wimp. _He looked down. _Dang it, not again! Curse you, armor with no toilet!_

A single spotlight focused on Pain. He pulled down a chart that showed various colored bars. "AS YOU CAN SEE, HITS FOR THE SIDEWINDER CREW HAVE GONE DOWN CONSIDERABLY! IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE THE AUTHOR FROM HIS HORRIBLE SITUATION, I HAVE DERIVED THAT PERHAPS I CAN END THE SERIES BY KILLING YOU ALL BY BLOWING UP SIDEWINDER! OR AT LEAST GET SOME MORE PEOPLE TO READ THIS STORY!"

"You fiend!" Tent took out his assault rifle. "For no longer will you threaten Blue Team. Your oppression of the Blues will never return! You have lost."

"THIS IS WHY I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!" The evil Spartan leapt down to the lower level. "I'M TIRED OF ALL THESE AWFUL JOKES! RIPPING OFF EPISODE III? I COULD DO BETTER IN MY SLEEP!" He headed towards a teleporter. "I'M GOING TO DUO JAGAN'S FAN FICS. AT LEAST PEOPLE ACTUALLY READ THOSE!"

He left. Tent shrugged. "Wow. Talk about anticlimactic. So, I guess that means we win, huh?"

"That must be a new feeling for you."

"Oh, shut up, Cynthia." He glanced around. "Where did he put the device that will destroy Sidewinder?"

Rogers cocked his head to the side. "Why, sir? Do you want it to give to Command so they can study its technology and use it against the Reds?"

"No, I want it to blow up Sidewinder. That way we can kill the Reds, and win the war!"

"But that will kill Steve too, sir."

"See! It's the perfect plan!"

Robot Two turned to the captain. _"You forgot one thing, sir."_

"What's that?"

_"I have the detonator."_

They spun around to face…the wall. Then they turned around, _again_, and saw the green robot holding a plasma pistol.

Tent furrowed his brow. "That's not a detonator."

_"Wrong. In Red vs. Blue it serves as a detonator. And a medical device." _The android tinkered with the plasma pistol, I mean, detonator. _"I have changed the bomb to destroy this place instead. Soon we will all be dead."_

"But why, Robot Two? I thought you fought for us."

_"The Reds offered me better pay and medical insurance. I also get weekends off. And their vacation plan is much better."_

Rogers shook his head. "This stinks! I guess this it's over, sir."

"Don't worry, Rogers!" Tent pulled out a large square device with a button on it. "I implanted Robot Two with an explosive, just for this situation!"

"Really? You put in a bomb because you thought he was going to be taken by the Reds and then you could detonate the bomb and kill his captors?"

"Actually, I put it in there for the fireworks, but if that's what you want to believe, than don't let me stop you." He pressed the button. "Say bye-bye, traitor!"

An explosion came from the other side of the arena. Tent chuckled. "Oh, that's right, I put the bomb in Robot _One_."

Rogers gulped. "Uh-oh."

Robot Two raised the detonator. _"Lights out, Blues."_

Cynthia sighed. "Man, I didn't want to die with you two losers. Ah well."

"Thanks, Cynthia. You're very, _very_ comforting."

The robot activated the bomb. _"Bye."_

_What will happen to the Blues? Are they done for? (Before you all decide to throw a celebration party, let me remind you that I practically never kill characters off in this fic. It's very hard for me.) You'll have to wait till next time for the answers, because this chapter is over!_

"What!" The private groaned. "You can't end it now! She's about to kill me! I hate you, you little—"

_Since the story is rated K, the last words the private said have been cut out. Sadly, we'll have to wait to find out what happens to the private. Tune in next time, for…_The Sidewinder Crew!

_Yeah, you thought the story was over. It's time for an explanation of text! Will anyone read this? Probably not! Anyway, this is the way text works in _The Sidewinder Crew…

_First off, when someone is talking on the radio, the person on the other end speaks in bold text. Why, you might ask? Because when I talk to the characters it's in italicized text. In all of my other stories when someone talks on the radio the person on the other end speaks in italicized text. The exception is the conversation between Phillips and Red Command in Chapter 2, but I hadn't thought of the whole bold text idea yet. _

_Also, when a robot talks, it has the word symbol thing "" and the beginning and end of its quotation. It also speaks in italics. Why I didn't do this for the radio I have no idea._

_Anyway, just thought I'd clear that up. See you all next chapter! Even though I really can't _see_ you…_

_Ah well. _


	11. Got to Get with the Times, man

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Phillips gasped for breath and then continued his screaming. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—"

"Hey, dude! Can you shut up?"

He stopped. Freezing winds blew past him, chilling him to the bone. He wheeled around to see several rocks jutting from the snow. _This place looks a little like Sidewinder. _He gazed up at the giant brown structure at the midway point of the canyon. _Okay, maybe it doesn't look like Sidewinder that much._

"Dude! Red guy! Can you hear me!"

He spun on his heel to come face-to-face, er, helmet-to-helmet, with a red Spartan.

"Agh!" Phillips leapt back. "Stay away!"

"Great, another noob." The red soldier shook his head. "Listen, if you're gonna act like some freakin' idiot, I don't have the time to watch you, so why don't you just get on the bus and go—"

"No, I'm okay. You just startled me, that's all."

"Yeah, I'm sure." The soldier shrugged. "Ah well. Welcome to Red Base at Containment. What's your name and rank?"

"'Containment'? I thought this place was called Sidewinder."

"Reading your history books, huh?" He chuckled. "At least somebody has. This place was called Sidewinder, yes, but that was a long time ago. About thirty or something years ago they redid the whole place and renamed it Containment. That's about when the Blues moved out."

"Wait. There aren't any Blues here anymore?"

"Nope."

"And they still have us stationed out here? Why?"

"I'm not going to answer that on the liability that it could be used against me in court." He pointed out towards a large building at the end of the canyon. "Come on, we can talk on the way to the base."

They strolled along the snowy expanse, passing weird, gray glowy things on the way. Phillips stared at the odd devices. "Hey, sir? What are those?"

"Here." He chunked a grenade at the thing. The thing exploded into a red cloud of gas. "They're explosives. You might not want to touch them."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that out."

They continued the long trek. The red soldier came to a sudden halt. "Wait. I just realized something. You didn't tell me your name and rank. So, what are they, noob?"

_Hmmmm…This guy thinks I'm a noob. Better not use my real name and rank. _"I'm Private…Phil." _There. Nobody can ever guess my real name._

"Okay, Private Phil, I'm Lieutenant Fynn." He cocked his head to the side. "Odd…anyway, any questions?"

"Yeah, why is this canyon look different from the old Sidewinder?"

"Well, it's kind of complicated." They started heading to the base again. "It was supposed to be a straight-up conversion of Timberline from the Halo PC, but make it more dynamic, change the bases; because they're basically the Sidewinder bases, change it a little…just change it altogether."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, right." He sighed. "You're one of those Xbox Live people who didn't buy the Multiplayer Map Pack because you could download the maps off Xbox Live. You stink."

"Oh. Okay." _'Timberline?' Why would anyone care about Halo PC? It's just some dumb port._

"So, your name is really Phil?"

_Oh no, he's on to me. Better act natural. _"Um…yeah."

"Oh. That's odd, because it sounds like one of the people from the great Sidewinder Massacre."

"Yeah, well—" He froze. "Wait. What Sidewinder Massacre?"

"You don't know? I thought you read your history books."

"Well, I—" A sudden pain stabbed in his chest. His vision began to fog up as his limbs lost feeling.

"Phil? Phil! Are you…"

The voice faded away, along with all else, as Phillips slipped into the world of dreams…

_That was kind of boring. Anyway, we actually don't cut to the gang at Sidewinder this time; we instead go to Red Base in Containment…_

Jake sighed. "For the last time, my last name is not Long!"

"Ah, come on, Jake. If your last name was Long, we could have someone named after a really lame TV show! Wouldn't that be awesome?"

"Uh…_no_."

"Oh, forget you."

"Good, I've already forgotten _you_."

The other soldier, Private Allen, shrugged. "Fine. Do you know where the lieutenant went?"

"No, he said something about hearing somebody screaming and then went to check it out."

"Wait. Why did you say no if you knew where he went?"

"Um…typo?"

"Okay. Whatever, man." Allen popped his neck. "Dude, this is taking FOREVER."

"Yeah." Jake glanced around. "Have you ever noticed all this snow and ice?"

"No, man, I never did. I wondered what all the white stuff was."

"Don't be sarcastic. I'm serious. Where did all this snow and ice come from? Do you think it came from the Flood?"

"What do parasites have to do with this?"

Jake shook his head. "No, not those Flood. The Great Flood. You know, with Noah and the Ark."

"Wait. This Noah is something about Halo 3? Awesome! Is it a spoiler?"

"No, not _that_ Ark. You know, the Great Flood. Noah. All the animals. Two-by-two."

"Oh, right." He humphed. "You're one of the crazies."

"Yeah, I'm—wait, what? What do you mean by 'crazies'?"

"One of those Christian fascists who insist the world is _created_ by some Almighty God, and that the entire Bible is true."

"First off, fascist? Well I guess you and all your leftist friends will be happy since you guys celebrate fascism, and secondly, the Bible _is _true."

"Yeah, right. You guys are just Christian fundamentalists. The Bible is a collection of parables."

"But then why do two secular historians during Biblical times both acknowledge Jesus' death and resurrection?"

"Listen, dude, you are so deluded. You should, no, you _need_ to read The Da Vinci Code."

"Unlike 40 million other people, I don't exactly like one-dimensional characters." He rolled his eyes. "This is pointless. Nobody understands the truth until its too late."

"Well, Preacher, just keep doing that and maybe somebody will actually listen to you."

"Ladies! Front and center!"

They wheeled around. Lieutenant Fynn struggled towards them, lugging a maroon body.

"Wait just a minute." Jake furrowed his brow. "The body's _crimson_. There isn't any maroon armor in Halo 2."

_"Oh, just shut up."_

"Fine by me."

Fynn dropped the body on the ground, gasping for breath. Private Allen stared at him. "Hey, sir, what's the body?"

The lieutenant shook his head, his hands on his knees. Allen waited for what seemed like an eternity before breaking the silence. "This is taking forever! Can you please just stop resting and inform us of all the useless information the readers already know!"

"Um, Allen, he's been resting for, like, three seconds."

"Three seconds, three millenniums, time is money. Who's the body, sir?"

Fynn finally regained his breath. "I found this guy out there, Jake. I guess he's that new help Command promised us."

"But wasn't Allen the new help Command sent us?"

"Who?"

"Allen." Jake pointed at the red private. "That guy. Standing right there. Wearing SpongeBob underwear."

"Hey!"

"It's true."

Allen cocked his head to the side. "How the heck do you know I have SpongeBob underwear?"

"Um…" He wheeled to the lieutenant. "As you were saying, sir?"

"Well, I found this guy. He's a total noob, typical rookie, doesn't seem to know anything. Knows his history, though."

"Not like that will get him anywhere in life."

"Exactly right, corporal. Anyway, I was leading him to the base, telling him about things, when he suddenly collapsed. Real wimp. Then I had to carry him all the way here."

"Ah." Jake looked at the unconscious body. "Why do all the help Command sends us seem to be lame?"

"What are you talking about, Jake? This is our first new recruit since you arrived."

Jake shook his head. "Almost makes me miss Max."

"Who?"

"Never mind. So, what's the new guy's name?"

"Phil, apparently." Fynn shrugged. "I guess now we wait until he wakes up."

Silence enveloped them. Allen glanced from one red soldier to another. "So, should we maybe do something to keep busy?"

Jake took a step back. "If you expect me to take my armor off again, man, you are _dead wrong_."

Fynn looked at Jake. "Why are you talking to thin air, soldier?"

"No, sir, Jake's talking to me."

The lieutenant shook his head. "I just don't understand you, Jake. I think the cold might be getting to you."

"Um, sir?" Jake furrowed his brow. Again. "How many people are in this base?"

"Well, obviously, there are three."

"Not including the unconscious guy, right?"

"No, counting the unconscious guy." Fynn sighed. "For the love of money, soldier, don't you know math? 2 plus 2 equals 5, all that stuff?"

"Oh screw it."

The body groaned. They stared at it as it rose to its feet. "Ow. My head…where is I?"

"Um, isn't it 'Where am I?'"

"Yeah. I guess you can never trust Grammar-Check. Or Spell-Check. It said that Grammar can be spelled with an 'e'. That's just plain wrong; everybody knows you have to use an 'a' or a 'u'."

"Yeah, just keep thinking that."

Fynn snapped to attention. "Welcome to Containment, Private Phil. I am Lieutenant Fynn, and this is Jake, the corporal."

The new soldier nodded. "Okay. What about the other guy?"

"What other guy?"

"That guy, standing next to you."

"I told you, that's Jake."

"No, the other one."

"What other one?"

"The other guy standing next to you."

"Oh, I get it." Fynn chuckled. "You must be thinking of me. Well, I'm Lieutenant Fynn."

"No, not you, the guy standing next to you."

"That's Jake."

"No, the other guy standing next to you!"

"That's me."

"NO, NOT YOU, **_THE OTHER GUY_**!"

"That's Jake."

"NO, NOT—oh, forget it."

"Thank you, private." Fynn shook his head. "Man, this madness is spreading. First Jake, now the new guy…soon even I will be in its clutches!"

Phil looked at Allen. "Is he always like this?"

"Um…yeah."

Jake shrugged. "Well, I guess since the fun's over, I'm going up to the upper level. Allen, you're with me."

The two red soldiers moved to the top level. Jake could catch the last snippets of the new guy and the lieutenant's conversation.

"Yeah, he's always talking to this 'Allen' guy. I think he had a problem with imaginary friends when he was younger."

"But, sir, there's another soldier here."

"Where?"

"He left with the orange guy."

"Jake."

"Yeah, Jake. Jake left with this other red guy."

"You mean me."

"No, the other guy."

Jake shook his head. _There they go again. _He reached the top wall and whipped out his sniper rifle. Allen sighed. "I wish I got a sniper rifle."

"Dude, listen, once the lieutenant recognizes your existence, I will personally get you a sniper rifle of your own."

"What? I thought you hated me."

"I do, man. I hate you, I hate the way you talk, I hate your guts, man, I hate your very soul." He surveyed the frozen landscape. "But I'm sick of the lieutenant ignoring you. It's even dumber than you are."

"Um, this isn't Opposite Day, is it?"

He chuckled. "No, dude, I'm really serious about—" He froze, and then turned to Allen in horror. "You mean all that hate stuff?"  
"Yeah. You know, the opposite of hate is—"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Jake panted. "I DO NOT LOVE YOU, YOU GAY PERVERT MAN I HATE YOU JUST DIE NOW BEFORE I KILL YOU! I HATE YOU!"

"But, if it's Opposite Day, that means you—"

"IT'S NOT OPPOSITE DAY!" He shrugged. "Well, actually, in Canada and Turkmenistan…"

"But it's not Opposite Day here?"

"Oh, thank God, no." He gasped for breath. "You do anything like that again, I swear, I will kill you."

"Oh, you closet homophobe." Allen shook his head. "You stink."

"I'm not a homophobe. But am I the only guy who realizes that being gay is COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY WRONG!"

"You Christian fascist."

"Oh, just shut up." He sighed. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Except Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He was perfect."

"Okay, I'm sorry I freaked out." Jake gulped. "It's just I have this girlfriend back home, it's just, you know, I don't want anything getting between us."

"Oh. I just thought you thought homosexual behavior is gross."

"No, I _do_ think homosexual behavior is just a little bit gross. But I'm sorry. I overreacted."

"Okay, I forgive you." Allen laughed. "Man, I was kidding with you all along. I wanted to see how you would react."

"Can we just not go there? It's behind us."

"Fine. I'm good with that."

"Good." Jake began studying the snowy frontier again. "But, this new guy, I wonder if he—"

"If he what?"

Jake froze. _It can't be._ "Allen, get the lieutenant."

"He doesn't think I exist, remember?"

"Oh, right. Sir! You need to get up here!"

Lieutenant Fynn jogged up to their position, Phil on his heels. "What is it, corporal?"

"Sir, look."

Fynn and Phil looked out at the snow and ice. Fynn shook his head. "I can't believe it. Phil, can you see them?"

Phil looked out at the snow, and even though Jake didn't know the new guy's facial expressions because of the helmet he wore, he would have sworn Phil's face was frozen in terror as he beheld the three blue specks moving through the white drifts. "No, not them. Why did it have to be them?"

_Oh, cliffhanger! I guess it's taking a page from Duo Jagan's book. I would like to thank Duo Jagan for putting me in his fic. That totally rocked. I would also like to thank all readers for, well, reading this chapter and this story._

_So, what will happen? Who are the blue specks moving through Containment? Will we ever return to the private and Sal?_

The private shook his head. "I seriously doubt it."

_Don't worry, the private's always wrong. Really, I know. Anyway, the last thing is I'm upping this story's rating to T. Sorry, but I felt the humor was getting a bit cruder and with the violence and stuff…No this doesn't mean I'm going to start being vulgar and stuff. Anyway, I'll see you all later. Even though I can't really _see_ you…_

_Bye._


	12. That was Fast

"Hi."

The private stared at Sal. "What the heck are you talking about?"

"Hi."

"You said hi."

"Yeah."

"And why did you say hi?"

"Because hi rhymes with die."

"Oh. Right."

Sal pulled the trigger of her sniper rifle. The bullet whizzed out of the gun's barrel and landed…

…right in Kyle's head. The private jumped back. "Oh my gosh what did you do that for!"

"Shouldn't there have been an exclamation point between 'gosh' and 'what'?"

"Whatever."

"Yeah. Well, I hated Kyle, you hated Kyle, the flag hated Kyle, Sergeant Montgomery hated Kyle, the author hated Kyle, Tom Hanks hated Kyle…even _Kyle_ hated Kyle." Sal reloaded her sniper rifle. "Everybody hated Kyle. That's why he died."

"And why didn't I die? The author hates me."

"Actually, no, he doesn't. He just dislikes you sometimes. He keeps bringing you back because of nostalgia."

"Nostalgia?"

"Yes, nostalgia. You were in the first chapter, I was in the second one…why do you think Sergeant Montgomery has been gone so long? She was gone when this whole thing started."

"Oh." The private, taking a cue from Steve, furrowed his brow. "But then why did Phillips die?"

"We don't know if Phillips is dead."

"Yeah." The private sighed. "I wish there was some way we could know."

"You're right. We need all the people we can get."

"What? No, I was hoping he died. I hate his guts."

"Dudes…"

They wheeled around. Kyle lay on the ground, moaning. "Dudes…I'm…like…dead…"

"Uh-oh." Sal readied her rifle. "Better finish him off."

"No, wait." The private knelt down next to Kyle. "Kyle, can you hear me?"  
"Yes…dude…"  
"Good. I just want you to know, before you die…"

"Yeah?"  
"Everybody hates you. Including me."

"Okay…dude…I…just…want…to…say…I—"

Sal shot him again, killing him off for good. The private shook his head. "Ah well. All's bad that ends bad."

"But this is just the beginning of the chapter."

"Oh, right. Never mind."

_Wow. That was weird. Poor Kyle. Another victim of my ruthless hatred of characters…Anyway, let's head to a character I do like: Private Steven McNeal…_

Steve typed some commands into his computer. "Sweet. I have officially infiltrated Bungie's website! Now I can post all the stuff I want! I can write my own weekly updates!"

The computer started flashing. Steve stared at the screen. "Odd…maybe I shouldn't have hit the red button. I doubt it did anything, though."

_At Bungie headquarters…_

Jason Jones's jaw dropped. "What? All the Halo 3 stuff was erased! Now we'll have to push it back to 2027! Ah well. The fans can wait, can't they?"

_Back at Blue base, soon to be the site of a bomb drop by Halo fans worldwide…_

"Ah dang. Bungie shut down its website. And made the text really small. Again." Steve shrugged. "Fine. I'll go do something else."

He tapped his foot on the ground. "Well, I could try to figure out how to actually use a weapon…Nah. Too much work. So, what can I do that will cure me of my boredom _and_ not cost any energy…" He chuckled. "Duh. TV."

"Hey, you."

He wheeled around. "What the—" Facing him stood a cobalt soldier. "Um, who are you?"

"I'm the general."

"The general?"  
"Yes. The general."

"Any relation to the private?"

"Oh, yeah. He's my second cousin."

"Really?"  
"Actually, no, he's my brother, but that's not important." The general looked around the base. "Where's your team, sergeant?"

"Sergeant? I…yeah. I'm Sergeant…McNeal. Sergeant Eustace Stephen McNeal."

"Odd…we had a report that there was a guy here named Stevie McNabb…"

Steve rolled his eyes. _Man, Captain Tent was so dumb he didn't even get my name right…_ "Well, you see, that was one of the guys. But all the soldiers were killed by…the Reds. The Reds killed all my soldiers, and now I need new ones."

"But we didn't get a distress signal."

"Oh, yeah. The radio broke."

"It's right there."

Steve turned to see the device propped up against the wall. "I just fixed it before you came, sir."

"Okay, fine." The general nodded. "I came to inspect the base. So, can we get to it?"

"Yeah, sure." Steve led the general into the main room. _This is awesome. The general thinks I'm a sergeant, all the others are away, and after I pass this inspection, I'll have the whole place to myself. _He grinned. _How can this go wrong?_

_The famous last words. What will happen to Private Steve? Will the general find out the truth? Wait just a minute…this chapter's less than a 1000 words! No way! Ah well. Maybe this is a sign of things to come…_

_Anyway, here's a sneak peek at next chapter…_

"Hey, look!" Phillips chuckled. "Somebody put their underwear in the fridge!"

"You better not eat that, rookie!"

_Yeah, that had nothing to do with the plot…okay. But I'm taking Duo Jagan's advice to threaten a political or celebratory figure. If you all don't review, I'll kidnap the Pixar crew, therefore robbing the whole world of any good 3-D animated movies besides _Shrek 2_ and the first _Ice Age. _And then, I'll force Tom Cruise and Shaq to play one-on-one with each other!_

_Bwah ha hah ha hah ha hah!_


	13. Lucky Number, huh?

Phillips groaned. "No, not them. Why did it have to be them?"

Fynn stared at him. "You knew these guys?"

"No, I was just adding drama to the whole thing."

"Oh. Okay."

Jake watched the blue soldiers. "There are three of them, two blue ones and a teal guy. Should we do something, sir?"

Allen shook his head. "We need to sit back and relax this chapter. Can't you read? It's the thirteenth chapter. 13 is an unlucky number! If we do something, something bad will happen!"

"That's just superstition."

"It may just be superstition, but it's _dumb _superstition!"

"That doesn't help you."

Fynn sighed. "You really should stop talking to yourself. People are going to think you're crazy."

"Thanks for the advice, sir."

"I wasn't talking to you."

Phillips stared at the threesome of soldiers. "Is that all you guys do around here?"

Jake nodded. "Pretty much."

"So what are we going to do about the Blues?" Phillips looked out at the enemies still far, far away. "Are we going to attack them?"

"We're not going to do anything, rookie." Fynn leapt down to the lower level. "We can't do anything involving the enemy without Command's approval."

Phillips joined him. "Really?"

"Yeah, it's some law, like section…3…something. Didn't they tell you that in base camp?"

"Uh…" _Better act like I know this stuff. _"Yeah. Of course. I was just, um, wondering. Anyway, are there any other things they told me at base camp that you need to remind me about?"  
"Okay, let's see…" The lieutenant put a hand to his chin. Well, the bottom of his helmet. You get the picture. "There's the Pete Code, which states that no rookies can carry rocket launchers. Sorry, Phil."

"That's okay, sir." _Who the heck is Pete?_

"And next is the Error Law, which states that if the subordinates err in decisions about fighting the enemy, they are punished by whatever means the superior officer devises."  
"But isn't Command the ones who gives the orders about the enemies? Doesn't that mean that a soldier can get punished for doing what Command told him to do?"  
"Um…um…sauerkraut."

"'Sauerkraut'?"

"Yeah." Fynn bowed his head. "Sauerkraut. Anyway, finally, there's the Ketchup Rule."

"So it's about condiments?"  
"Nope, socks. You cannot wear matching socks on Tuesdays."

"Really?"  
"Yep."

"Okay." Phillips nodded. "Thanks, sir."

"Anytime, rookie, anytime." Fynn plopped down on the sofa that just happened to be behind him. "So we just sit back and relax while Jake sends a message to Command requesting orders."

Jake sighed as he landed next to them. "Why can't the rookie do that? Or Allen?"

"Okay, let's have your imaginary friend call in to Command. While he does that, we can use our imaginary guns to fight the enemies, and then, after all that fun, we can take a drive in the imaginary Warthog, considering you _destroyed the real one_!"

"That was Allen."

"You can't blame everything on imaginary people, corporal."

Phillips froze as the sound of their bickering faded away. His stomach clenched, and he felt acid rise in his throat. Pain shot through his entire body, and yet again, he fell into the abyss of dreams…

_Wow. Either Phillips has had too much Tylenol, or something's up. Anyway, it's time we visited the mysterious Blues outside the Red Containment Base…_

Captain Tent put his hand on the snowy canyon wall, panting. "Let's rest for now, soldiers."

Rogers practically fell on the ground, gasping for breath. "Wait a minute. Why am I gasping for breath?" He jumped to his feet. "I feel great. I'm, like, the only guy on this Blue squad in shape."  
Cynthia humphed.

Rogers rolled his eyes. "I said 'guy'."

"Wait." She stared at him. "You're a guy?"  
"What kind of question is that?"  
"I don't know. You could have fooled me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Never mind."

Tent surveyed the area. "Do you two have any idea where we are?"

Rogers furrowed his brow. "Well, it's somewhere cold, sir."

"Thanks for the newsflash, corporal. Tell me something I don't know."

"I love you, sir."

Tent stepped back. "Cynthia, the honors."

"Right, sir." She shot Rogers in the head. Sadly, she was carrying the Halo 2 shotgun, so since she stood about six feet back from him, it barely hurt him. She threw the gun on the floor. "Piece of crud. It always worked before!"

Tent shook his head. "This is getting us nowhere. We need to figure out what happened to us. Any ideas, soldiers?"

"Well, sir, we could go over what we were doing." Rogers sat down. "The bomb exploded. There was this bright flash, and then we were in this place. Wherever this place is."

"Yeah, soldier. Those two other Blue guys we met didn't help at all. They kept babbling something about an alien, and this bomb, and a girl who went after some guy with a cheap British accent…anyway…" The captain stood. "Maybe someone in that base can help us."

"But sir, that's the Red base."

"We don't know that, Rogers! For what we know, we could be in an alternate reality, where blue is red and red is blue!"

"Than doesn't that make us Reds, sir?"  
"Of course not! How could we be Reds if we're wearing blue armor?"

"But you—oh, never mind." Rogers shook his head. "This isn't helping us figure out where we are?"

"Hmmm…" Tent sighed. "Well, we'll start with the basics. We're in a place that looks sort of like Sidewinder, and we have shiny armor, our weapons are different, and the graphics are now horrendous."

"What are you talking about? We look awesome! These graphics are way better than the old ones."

"No way, Jose. If you look closely, you can see the individual pixels, something that didn't happen as frequently in the first Halo."

"So what?"

Cynthia sniffed the air. "I smell Reds."

"Are you sure that wasn't just Rogers?"  
"Sir!"

"Sorry, corporal."

She whipped out a sniper rifle. "No…they're close."  
Rogers looked up at the structures looming above them. "Maybe they're in the Red base."

Tent shrugged. "I don't know, corporal, it's a long shot."

Cynthia jogged off. Rogers watched her leave. "Where are you going!"

"To get away from you two!"  
Tent turned to Rogers. "You didn't really mean that thing about loving me, did you, Rogers?"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies, sir."

_We're here! The end of the chapter! Wow, that was really fast! Sorry if you're disappointed that this is shorter than normal, but hey, that's life. Also, the underwear in the fridge joke didn't make it into the chapter. I apologize._

_Hope to see you all soon!_


	14. Packaged Goods

_This is it. If somebody besides Duo Jagan doesn't review this chapter, I will personally make sure that the Pixar animation crew is kidnapped and detained, therefore not allowing them to make any more average films like _Cars_! Ha hah ha hah ha hah! _

_Anyway, enjoy the chapter._

"So why didn't you kill me?"

Sal sighed. "I told you, I took out my sniper rifle and targeted you without the author's permission. Then the author had this idea that I would kill you, but you would actually be Kyle in disguise, and the real you would be disguised as Kyle, but that was too complicated, so I just killed Kyle instead."

"Oh. Right." The private furrowed his brow. "Can we go over that one more time? For the reader's sake."

"Shut up, you birdbrain. We just have to find Sergeant Montgomery and Phillips, wherever he went off to."

"Maybe we should read this conveniently placed note on the wall."

They turned around to see a white piece of paper stuck to the wall with a thumb tack. Sal rolled her eyes. "The author goes into way too much detail on these simple things."

_"Hey, I'm just trying to make a living here."_

She plucked the note from its resting place. "'Dear Sal and Crackpots, I have gone to go find Phillips. I believe he is somewhere in Canada. Love me or die, Sergeant Montgomery.'"

"As usual. She names you, and I get called a crackpot."

"Oh, come on. Kyle didn't get named either. Wait, there's another line here. 'P.S. Tell Kyle and the crackpot to be careful around the new package.'"

The private nodded. "Yeah, she hates me."

"Well, all girls hate you."

"The flag doesn't hate me."

"But the flag is an inanimate object."

"Oh, yeah. Good point."

_Back at Blue base…_

The general surveyed the room. "So, you have a rocket launcher, a sniper rifle, two shotguns, tons of grenades and assault rifle ammo, a couple dozen Barney video tapes, and yet, after all this time, you haven't used any of them?"

"Well, if you put it that way, it sounds a little harsh." Steve shrugged. "I would like to point out that Command never gave us the order to attack."

"Dude, we gave you that order a month ago."

"Oh, I guess our, um, radios weren't working."

"We got word that your radios were working perfectly about five minutes before we sent the order."

"A lot can happen in five minutes, you know."

**"SIR!"**

Steve looked around. "What the—who said that!"

**"It was me, the emboldened, talking radio, idiot Sergeant!"**

"Oh yeah. It's that guy at Command." The general moved closer to the radio. "What is it, Clark?"

**"For the last time, MY NAME IS NOT CLARK!"**

"Stow it, toadstool, and give me the results."

**"Oh, yeah, right. Well, we received this real weird order today, sir. I think you should listen in. I'll patch it in, but it may take a little while."**

"Just do it, Clark."

**"MY NAME IS NOT CLARK!"**

Steve stared at the general. "Wait, how do you guys receive orders? You guys are Command. You guys give the orders."

"No, we give the orders we receive from the Board. Which gets its orders from the Court. Which gets its orders from Johnny Depp."

"I get orders from Willy Wonka?"

The radio crackled. A hologram appeared of a cloaked figure. **"General, the time has come. Execute Order 66."**

The general stared at the figure. "Dude. What the heck are you talking about?"

**"Oh, sorry." **The mysterious figure cleared his throat. **"I meant, execute Order 67."**

"It shall be done, my lord."

Steve watched as the general deactivated the radio. "Um, general guy? What was that about?"

"The time is now, Sergeant Eustace. The order is here. It is time to unleash the plan."

"Do you have any idea what you're talking about?"

"Not really. It just sounded dramatic."

"Oh. Right."

_Did that have anything to do with the plot? In a nutshell, no, that was completely pointless. But, on the bright side, we now return to something that's way more plot-related…_

"I love cows!"

"Me too! Hey! There goes one now! And it's flying!"

_Yeah, that didn't do anything. Sorry. Now we go to that actually has to do with the plot…_

Gandalf stared at the One Ring. "This is the one Ring, forged by the dark lord Sauron in his…Wait a minute, this is The Sidewinder Crew! What am I doing here?"

He and Frodo then realized that they were sitting in the middle of Red base, being stared at by Sal and the private. Frodo sighed. "Ah well. Back to the Shire." He ran off.

Gandalf shook his head. "I don't have the heart to tell him the Shire's the other way."

The private shrugged. "Okay, that was weird. Anyway, didn't the sergeant say something about a new package?"

Sal nodded. "Yeah, we're getting something special. It should be here any minute."

"This is the deep breath before the plunge. The board is set. Here we are, on the eve of the great battle of our time."

The private stared at Gandalf. "What the heck are you still doing here?"

"Getting laughs, Master Private, getting laughs." The White Wizard did a tap dance and then went out the door.

Sal shook her head. "Seriously, I see why everybody hates Return of the King the most. It had too much Gandalf."

The private cocked his head to the side. "But everybody loves Return of the King."

"Not me. Fellowship of the Ring all the way." She shrugged. "Anyway, we were talking about the new package, right? Well, you lost the jeep, so Sergeant Montgomery ordered in a new vehicle. That's about all I know about it."

"Whoa, hold on there for a minute. I did not lose that jeep. You and Phillips did."

"Well, Sergeant Montgomery doesn't know that, does she? And if you ever want to live to have children, you won't tell her about it."

"You can be very violent, you know."

She nodded. "Yeah, that's what my gym teacher said right before he died in a car accident that I had _nothing_ to do with. Anyway, this new vehicle should arrive very, very soon."

As if on cue, a DHL employee entered the building, holding a clipboard. "Package for Red Team Sidewinder Division, from Red Command. Who can I give this to?"

"I'll sign for it." Sal took the clipboard and a pen. "Did we used to get our packages from FedEx?"

"Yeah, but after you killed all their employees, they got a little upset. Oh, and by the way, thanks for knocking off the competition, Miss."

"Anytime. But aren't you guys worried about UPS?"

"No way, Miss. They're brown. Who likes brown?"

She finished signing the paper and handed it back to the employee. "Okay, see you later, random employee."

"Thanks. The package is outside."

She rubbed her hands as the DHL employee left. "Oh, yeah. This is going to be awesome."

The private shrugged. "I think it's just going to be disappointing, but hey, that's just me. Can we go outside now?"

They jogged out into the snow. Sal surveyed the frozen landscape. "Odd, I don't see—" She stopped. "No way. No freakin' way."

The private followed her gaze. "Wow. And now the author's going to break to the Blues without revealing what our delivery was. Boy, like that hasn't been used before."

_Hey, the private's right! Well, there's a first time for everything. Now, we go to the Blues for some interesting revelations. Or not…_

"That's crazy, man. Star Trek is not better than Star Wars."

The general shook his head. "You don't understand anything. Star Wars stinks."

"How can you insult Star Wars?"

"Two words: Jar Jar."

"I see your point." Steve looked around the base. "Well, um, as you can see, general sir, this base is empty besides us. I suggest that you bring more soldiers."

"I'll see what I can do, sergeant. But until new troopers arrive, I'll have to stay here and make sure nothing goes wrong."

"Um…okay."

"I'll just go contact Command on my radio." The general walked outside. "Come in Blue Command, this is the general. I am currently at the Sidewinder Base. Does anybody copy, over?"

**"This is Lieutenant Franklin, I read you loud and clear, sir. Over."**

"Good. Only one of the soldiers is here. He says that he's a sergeant, and all the other troopers died. I'm curious, can you check to verify if we received reports of a sergeant at this base?"

**"Sure thing, sir. Though it may take some time. You can just talk to the other guy."**

"Okay, fine by me, lieutenant."

**"Alright, I'm putting him on."**

"Good. So, how are you doing, Clark?"

**"I TOLD YOU, MY NAME IS NOT CLARK!"**

"Oh, Clark, you always were a kidder."

Steve poked his head outside. "Sir? What's taking so long?"

"Um, I'm just talking to my friend here. Clark."

**"FOR THE LAST TIME, MY NAME IS NOT CLARK!"**

"You said that about four times ago."

**"This time I really mean it, you imbecile!"**

"Whatever you say, Clark."

Steve shrugged. "Okay, I'm going to make some waffles. Do you want any?"

"Wait a minute. It's like three in the afternoon. Why would you make waffles? And isn't your toaster broken?"

"You use a toaster to make waffles?"

**"General? And you still there?"**

"Huh?" The general clicked his radio back on. "Yeah, I'm here. What is it, Lieutenant Franklin?"

**"I researched the data. We only have reports of a captain, a corporal, and two privates. No sergeants, sir."**

"Thank you lieutenant. That will be all." He turned the mic off. "Okay. Eustace, that's your name, right?"

"Yes sir."

"Are you really a sergeant?"

"Um…yes."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Really sure?"

"Yes sir. I am completely sure that I am a sergeant."  
"Really really sure?"

"No."

"So you're sure, really sure, and completely sure, but not really really sure that you're a sergeant?"

"Um…I guess so, sir."

"Aha!" The general grinned. "I know the truth! You're not a sergeant! You're faking it!"

"What? I would never fake anything, sir! Well, except maybe my age and county of origin…"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, you see, sir, I was born in Canada."

"That explains a lot."

"And everybody at this base made fun of Canadians, so, just to be on the safe side, I said I was from Australia. Everybody loves Australians, right?"

"Can't argue with that. But you still impersonated a sergeant."

"Oh yeah. Forgot that."

The general shook his head. "I am very disappointed with you, Eustace. So, if you aren't a sergeant, what are you?"

"I'm a private, sir, listed formerly as Private Steve McNeal, or, as my captain put, 'Stevie McNabb.'"

"Lying gets you nowhere in life, private."

"It doesn't? Man, then my life is down the drain."

The general sighed. "Well, Eustace, you seem to be in a sticky situation. But where are the other Blues? And your superior officer?"  
"I don't really know, sir. They received orders from Command to go and look for some guy named 'Maximum Pain.' I wonder if he's related to Max Payne…"

"Oh, shut up, private. Listen, we have to go find them. Do you have any idea where they are?"  
"No, I just said that."  
"Don't repeat yourself, private."

"But I didn't."

"You still shouldn't."  
"But I _didn't_."

"There you go, repeating yourself. Didn't I just tell you not to repeat yourself?"

Steve hung his head. "Man, this is bad. Hopefully, the Reds didn't get some super-powerful weapon from DHL and are going to attack in around five minutes. That would stink."

"Yes it would, private."

_Meanwhile, at the Red Base…_

"Whoa." Sal gazed at the Scorpion tank sitting in front of the base. "It's…it's…_beautiful_."

"Yeah, it's incredible alright."  
She turned to the private. "Do you know what this means? We can destroy those Blues big time! They can't stop us now! This tank makes us invincible!"

"Oh, yeah, the tank's cool too."

"Wait. What?"

"You know, that tank's been sitting there since the second chapter. I was wondering why nobody ever noticed it. I guess with all that crazy stuff that happened it just kind of, I don't know, slipped through the cracks."

Sal furrowed her brow. "But then what did the guy give us?"

"A portable DVD player, apparently." The private took the silver device and popped it open. "Now to watch Star Wars until my brains fall out!"

"Forget the movies, private." Sal grinned. "We're gonna take the Blues by storm. Lock and load, soldier!"

"Um, Sal? Aren't we both privates?"

"Oh, yeah. Then, let's go, um…um…private."

"I guess that works."

_Will the Reds destroy the Blues? Has all come to an end? And can this story ever end? Doubt it. Anyway, tune in next time to _The Sidewinder Crew_ to find out!_


End file.
